A Trial of the Heart
by Teenwitch
Summary: The course of true love never did run smooth. GSR.
1. Default Chapter

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter One**

**Authors:** Rouch and Teenwitch  
**Summary:** The course of true love never did run smooth. GSR. Dark.  
**Rating:** M  
**A/N:** I would like to thank Jess "LaughAtClouds" for her suggestions when I was shaping this story. (Rouch)

Flashbacks are in bold. All thoughts will be in italics.  
**  
Spoilers: **General Season 5 spoilers.  
**Disclaimer:** CSI is the property of CBS, Alliance Atlantis, blah blah blah. In other words, we have no claim on them.

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_**It seems like every day's the same  
and I'm left to discover on my own  
It seems like everything is gray  
and there's no colour to behold  
They say it's over and I'm fine again, yeah  
Try to stay sober feels like I'm dying here  
****-'Fine Again' Seether**_

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**Copper, the omnipresent stench of blood, foul and suffocating in its intensity. **

**Darkness, pervading her senses, wrapping richly around her bodyan intangible force concealing her tormentor instead of offering her its solace. **

**Metal grating on metal, chains rattlingthe resonant, echoing sound of failure and evolving despair.**

**A voice, suddenly low and sinister, whispering through her narrowed world of fear; "Tell me who, and this can all go away."**

Sara jolted; sheets bunching around her legs as she shot bolt upright in her bed. Irrational terror gripped her consciousness, and her eyes slowly widened as they readjusted to the dimness of the room.

Her breathing came out in harsh, pained gasps, and she clenched the side of her mattress, slowly relinquishing her grip. She unconsciously slid a finger over the thin, shallow cut that had almost healed over her cheek, and scanned the room with instinctual, fearful vigilance.

Dim shadows jumped out at her, taunting her with their indistinct outlines, and at last she leaned over her nightstand, turning on the lamp. Her eyes drifted indolently over her digital clock face, and she noted the time. 9:15pm. Less than two hours until the start of shift.

Her first shift, for two weeks. She ran her hands over her hair, stringy and tangled from her perspiration, and slowly padded across the soft, beige carpet, intent on throwing herself directly into the shower, and washing away all remnants of her vivid nightmare.

The hot spray was scorching, and she gave herself a little too long to readjust the temperature, allowing it to momentarily scald her creamy white skin. It burned her still sensitive injuries and she winced, rubbing a spot slowly on her wrist.

Her first night in her own bed, in her own shower, and she thought she could erase what had happened completely. She thought the routine would wash away the lingering pain, force her to move forward.

They didn't think she was ready to return to work. She saw it in their drawn faces when she announced it in the hospital room, the fleeting glances they exchanged when they thought she wasn't paying attention.

They thought she was a ticking time bomb, and it was only a matter of time before her carefully repressed emotions broke free.

They were probably right.

She wrapped a towel around her; tying it loosely to avoid her injuries. Striding to stand in front of the frosty mirror she swiped a hand across the chilly surface to clear it.

She flinched when she saw her face, her pale, haunted features, the faint cuts and bruises that still blemished some of her face. Most of her injuries were internal, ones that couldn't be fixed by a brief stint in Desert Palms. They had not so subtly suggested she see a counsellor, but unlike last time, she steadfastly refused their kindly overtures. She had attended seven PEAP sessions, and they had never gotten to the true root of her problems, the reason she had such a blatant inability to get over her past.

And she didn't like psychologists.

She dressed herself with an inordinate amount of care, and after applying her makeup, examined herself once more in the mirror.

**"When you look at yourself in the mirror, what do you see…?"**

She stepped abruptly away, moving swiftly through her kitchen and grabbing a few crackers on her way to the door. If anyone of them asked if she had eaten dinner that evening, she wouldn't have to lie about it.

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Grissom strode hesitantly down the corridor, nodding his head vaguely as several lab techs passed him, hesitantly welcoming him back.

He spotted Greg in the DNA lab, chatting tensely with Mia, and he strode on past, not in the mood to deal with any of his colleagues' faltering attempts at conversation.

His office loomed ahead, dimly lit in its security, and he unconsciously quickened his pace, closing the door gratefully behind him. His eyes scanned the inner realms of the room, taking comfort in its familiarity.

She wasn't here yet. He had looked for her car in the parking lot, and the dark blue Audi A4 was markedly absent.

He drew in a deep breath, striding around his desk and slumping firmly in his leather chair.

Even if their tentative relationship prior to… the incident could be something to compare to, things had deteriorated rapidly between them since. How could they return to normal after what happened? How could anything return to normal?

For the first time in his very long career, it had taken a considerable amount of effort to convince himself to come to work this morning. The only real motivating factor was… that she would be here.

She had isolated herself from him for the last two weeks, barely talking to him at the hospital, rarely returning his calls, and she had accepted Nick's ride home from the hospital before giving him a chance to offer.

He heaved a deep sigh, unconsciously allowing his eyes to dart down over his wrists, where several bruises still discoloured the skin.

**"It's ironic, isn't it?" **

He snapped away from his desk, lowering his hand abruptly to his side. That voice would haunt him for the rest of his life.

A slow, tentative knock sounded at his door, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Yes?"

Catherine's blonde head peeked uncertainly inside, biting her lower lip when their eyes connected. "Hey, you".

He smiled weakly, knowing that he was unable to reassure her like she wanted. "Hey, Catherine".

"Glad to see you back".

"Yeah."

"You probably haven't checked the memo on your desk yet…"

He glanced down, spotting the bright yellow post-it note attached to a case folder, sighing when he realised she knew him all too well.

Catherine continued, "But Ecklie's given you strict assignments. I think he wants our teams to collaborate temporarily, at least until…" She shrugged, opening the door the rest of the way to further her trek into the room.

He knew Catherine had taken charge of the two shifts in his absence, and it bothered him to have her question his ability.

"I have Greg working a B&E, pretty standard stuff. I thought maybe Sara could help him on it, just ease her way back into the job with some teaching."

Grissom met her gaze, pursing his lips with vague frustration. Like he wouldn't know what was best for Sara right now.

"Fine", he said flatly.

She nodded, sensing his annoyance and clearing her throat with a little more reticence. "Uh, Ecklie seems to think… it might be best for you to just consult for now… maybe catch up on some paperwork instead of doing fieldwork…"

He had expected as much, but it still irritated him to hear it. "I'm sure I can handle that".

She paused, folding her arms slowly in front of her chest, tilting her head apologetically. "Gil… He's just worried about you".

He never thought she would feed him that line, but there was a first time for everything. "I'm not that far gone, Catherine", he informed her emphatically.

She smirked, a vague, wan motion. "Right", she conceded. "Well, he's worried about the lab, at any rate, no real change there. But maybe it's for the best".

He nodded, just looking down, not arguing with her. How could he?

Catherine tapped her fingers absently on her forearm. "Have you, um, seen Sara yet?" she prompted in trepidation.

He shook his head, still unable to meet her gaze. "No".

He saw her nod in the corner of his eye, and start to back into the corridor. "Okay, well. Gil…" She waited until he looked up then, and smiled softly, eyes sad. "It's really nice to have you back".

He waited until she was gone, and closed his eyes, resting his thumb and forefinger despairingly over his eyes.

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**Pain, sharp and overwhelming, consuming her body until she thought she might explode…**

**Lights, bright and staggering in their intensity, like beacons of heaven inviting her home…**

"Sara? _Sara_?"

Sara blinked, eyes darting quickly over Greg, as he eyed her with conflicted alarm. She forced a thin smile, barely tweaking her lips, and he continued looking at her.

"Sorry. I just spaced out."

Greg stared at her like she had lost her mind, and she thought she probably had.

"Sara, maybe you should… go home."

"I'm not going home, Greg!" she snapped, a little louder than intended.

He blinked, flinching slightly, but pity immediately overwhelmed the hurt in his eyes and she drew in a deep, calming breath, willing herself regain her composure "Where were we?" she said, ignoring his concern.

He cleared his throat, pointing hesitantly down at the crime scene photograph laid out between them, reluctantly following her lead to overlook her disruption. "Well, I… I think the burglar must have entered the scene here, because the screen was missing from that window. He tripped over a vase before he could take much, and the noise must have spooked him so much he cut loose kinda quick".

Sara silently allowed him to run through the case with her, inwardly wondering if it was really necessary for her to guide him on it. It obviously wasn't. He had a pretty good handle on what was going on. They were using it as an excuse to coddle her, using her prior mentoring of Greg as a cover. It was just another way for them to watch her, and keep her out of the mayhem. A job like theirs wasn't exactly ideal for traumatic recovery.

Greg cleared away the pictures, faintly hinting for a coffee break. She knew it was for her benefit, and didn't bother calling him on it. Shift wasn't far from over, and just being back in the lab was draining all of her energy. She endured the pity filled looks, whispered glances, and the hushed conversations that conveniently stopped when she neared. It was as if the lab was waiting with baited breath for that inevitable moment when Sara and Grissom's paths would cross. It was the kind of grotesque fascination people had for a train crash. They shouldn't look, but they couldn't look away.

On her way to the break room, the moment everyone seemed to be waiting for happened.

Greg had disappeared to retrieve some samples from trace before joining her, and the corridor was mostly empty. Grissom appeared from nowhere, striding towards her with his attention focused distractedly on a file in his hands, and her heart leapt painfully in her chest.

As if on cue, his head lifted from the casefile, and their eyes met across the hallway.

**"Look at him."**That voice taunted her.

Sara stopped, caught in the unexpected tension. She found it suddenly very difficult to move, eyes fixed waveringly on his. He swallowed, hesitantly slowing his pace, eyeing her as if he expected her to break.

She could feel her breath coming out in slow, uneven gasps, and her hands quivered at her sides. She stared at him, eyes tracing the faint gash mark that lined his neck, the uncertain, sparking blue of his deep crystal eyes, and she couldn't… she just couldn't… She turned abruptly, shoving her way blindly past an anonymous intern and bursting into the ladies room, ignoring how crazy the move must have made her look.

She drew in a deep, unsteady breath, hazily aware that the room was empty as she paced in front of the mirror, and finally stopped to brace herself on the hand basin, staring dully at her reflection.

He brought it all back. All of it, every infinite, excruciatingly heart stopping moment. She couldn't look at him without it flashing before her with a startling, vivid accuracy.

_I can't handle this. I'm not strong enough. I just can't._

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	2. Chapter two

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter 2**

**A/N:** All right…I (Rouch) have to admit I messed up…I am willing to admit when I make a mistake, but I blame sleep depravation and lack of caffeine… There is something I need to fix before anyone reads any further… LaughAtClouds is not called Jess in the real world…nope, it's Lisa… I tried to change her name but she wouldn't have it… Jess is writing a great fanfic that I have been beta reading, and I highly encourage it when she posts! It's just like watching an episode. So let's recap… Lisa not Jess, Lisa—thanks for the feedback, Jess—great story, must read.

So let's end the suspense shall we and get on with the story:

**Reminder:** Flashbacks are in **bold**; thoughts are in _italics_ because likes to mess with formatting…grrr…

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**_Standing by,  
All the way.  
Here to help you through your day._**

**_Holding you up,  
When you are weak,  
Helping you find what it is you seek._**

**_Catching your tears,  
When you cry.  
Pulling you through when the tide is high._**

**_Just being there,  
Through thick and thin,  
All just to say, you are my friend._**

**_Brittani Kokko –_**

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Grissom had watched Sara standing in the hallway, and felt a pain stab in his chest as she ran away from him. He had wanted to see her all day, but had avoided her the entire shift. She had made her wishes painfully clear in the hospital, and after their experience he was willing to give her all the space she needed.

He took a step forward to follow her. All he wanted out of life was to comfort her.

"**See what she's willing to go through for you?"**

Grissom winced as he heard the voice echo in his head. He placed his hand on the door that stood between himself and Sara, and slowly lowered his head to rest on the wood. _'She needs space. Seeing me will not help her recover,' _he told himself. Pushing off the door, he sought someone to check on Sara.

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The door opened, and she knew who the individual was that had entered-- but she refused to acknowledge them-- or to acknowledge that she needed help. Sara kept her head pressed against the coolness of the mirror. In her mind she imagined Grissom's reaction, and felt extremely guilty. She knew she had to talk to him, to apologize for involving him in her torment.

"Sara?" Catherine approached the brunette, and lightly touched her splinted hand.

Sara stiffened; squeezing her eyes shut.

**"Give me your hand Sara." His voice was so calming…so deceptive. **

She knew if she did not obey Grissom would suffer. Sara lifted her hand out, but refused to look; leaving her head pressed into the ground. He caressed her hand, and suddenly snapped her index finger. She moaned and drew it back quickly.

"Give me your hand Sara." His voice never changed.

She whimpered, and could still hear Grissom screaming. Sara once again placed her hand in her tormentor's, and felt another sickening snap.

Sara pulled away from Catherine, "No!"

The blonde instantly took a non-threatening stance, raising her arms slightly in the air. "Sara, it's ok, you're safe. It's over." With each word Catherine took a step closer to the scared women in front of her.

Finally, Sara opened her eyes. They were filled with tears she refused to shed. Catherine studied her. Her eyes were unfocused, and Catherine was sure she was suffering from a flashback, so she continued to whisper encouraging words.

Catherine let out the breath she was holding as she saw Sara's eyes slowly focus back on her. "Catherine?"

"Yeah, Sara, it's me." She held her hand out, waiting to see if the younger women would take it. "You ready to sneak out of here?"

Sara used her sleeve to wipe the tears that were on the verge of falling away. She took Catherine's offered one with her other hand, eliciting a smile. Sara smiled slightly back, "Yeah, any chance we can get out of here without seeing…anyone?"

Catherine felt instantly sorry for both Sara and Grissom as she translated who the 'anyone' was. She nodded, "I bet we could convince Greg to streak down the hallway, and we can escape in the midst of the confusion."

Sara laughed quietly, "Let's not subject the lab to such torture—" She meant it to be funny, but couldn't believe how different the word's meaning was to her now. It was not a word she would ever use in daily conversation again.

The blonde cocked her head toward the door, "Let's get out of here." She led Sara out the door by the hand, letting Sara walk protected behind her.

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Grissom watched from his office as Catherine led Sara out of the building. He grabbed his coat and followed discreetly behind them. Catherine made sure Sara got into her car, and Grissom's heart broke a little as he watched her quickly find the lock. Catherine in turn got in her car and drove off, but Sara's brake lights never lit up.

He walked around several cars so he could approach the vehicle from the front. He didn't want to startle her, but he needed to see her. Her eyes suddenly locked on his. He stopped in his tracks as he waited for her to decide his next steps. When she didn't turn the car on and drive away he took it as a signal that he could continue forward.

Sara rolled down her window halfway, but waited for Grissom to speak.

He knelt down, and placed a hand on the window. Sara jumped back. _Does she think I'm going to hurt her? How can she think that? _He was horrified.

Sara could sense the hurt she caused him, and mentally berated herself. _If I love him, why do I keep causing him pain?_

"Sara, I just need to know that you're all right…that _we're _alright." He held his breath, waiting to hear her answer, expecting an, 'I'm fine.'

She hesitantly touched his hand, and he could see the effort it took for her to reach out to him. "I'm fine, and we will be. I just need some time to deal with some issues."

He nodded. "Sara… I'm going to see someone tomorrow, to talk through some things. I hear she's really good, and I think maybe you should make an appointment."

She quickly withdrew her hand. "Griss, the last thing I need is to deal with another psychologist."

He cringed; it never occurred to him that she would draw that parallel. "Sara, Lee Wilson was not—"

"Grissom!" She cut him off abruptly, and instantly regretted her harshness. "Let's never talk about Dr. Wilson again." She turned her car on and backed out of her stall quickly. Leaving Grissom standing alone, forced to watch her run from him.

Grissom drove home, thinking about Sara. His thoughts occupied him to the point that he was surprised when he pulled into his driveway.

He walked through the door, grabbed some water and a migraine pill. He knew Sara was not dealing with her 'issues', and he was beginning to realize that avoiding him was helping her avoid confronting the memories. He couldn't blame her, but it didn't make her avoidance any less painful. He sat down heavily on his couch, and rubbed the sores on his wrist.

Grissom felt the bile rise in his throat when he focused on his fingers and remembered the moment Sara let the psycho break her fingers. Then he heard the voice.

"**It's amazing the pain she's willing to endure for you isn't it? Look how willingly she gives me her hand back."**

Sara's answering screams would haunt his mind for the rest of his life.

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Sara ate her yoghurt while she sat on the couch staring at the TV. It wasn't on, but she didn't seem to notice. She was pulled from her trance by a knock at the door. Her first instinct was to ignore whoever it was, but she soon realized the consequences of such actions. More then likely it was Greg or Nick, and if she didn't answer the door they would overreact and break it down.

She threw the half-eaten cup of yoghurt away, and walked to the door. Before she could reach the dead bolt, a persistent knock echoed through the apartment again.

"Sara?" The muffled voice of Greg Sanders was dripping with worry.

She unlocked the door and slid the chain off its track. As she drew it open she saw Greg posed to knock again. She held up her wrists. "Haven't slit them, you can relax," she stated sarcastically and walked back to the couch, leaving the door open in her wake.

Greg was determined to help her, and he knew that meant he had to deal with her biting words. He stepped in, locked and chained the door and set his duffle bag down. He covered half the distance between himself and Sara, and studied her.

Sara knew he was concerned, and he was really the one person she wanted around her. He was watching her, making her feel uncomfortable. Trying to relax, she leaned back, but winced at the pressure placed on her wounded back.

Greg saw the pain flash through her eyes. He placed the plastic bag he was holding on the coffee table in front of him, and sat down next to her.

She instinctively leaned against him, and he wrapped his arm around her, allowing her to finally cry openly. It was the second time he had seen her breakdown. He would never forget seeing her sobbing in the warehouse. She hadn't allowed herself to release her emotions since they found them.

Greg stroked her hair and whispered comforting words in her ear, until the sobs finally subsided. He tried to wipe the tears away, but her good hand was pinned and the splints on her fingers made it impossible. He pulled some tissues out of his pocket, and gently wiped her tears away.

"You always carry Kleenex around in your pocket?" She asked with a hint of amusement.

He nodded, "Every time a friend's gonna need some."

She smiled gratefully. "What's in the bag?"

He smiled triumphantly at the object. "That Sara Sidle, is all the ingredients needed to make a killer eggplant Parmesan," he explained proudly.

Sitting up straight she chuckled. "Since when do you know how to boil water, let alone cook?"

Smiling sheepishly he confessed, "I've been working on it since they found you. After two weeks of practice I'm ready."

"Greg, that's really sweet, but—"

"—yoghurt and crackers." He interrupted.

"What?"

"Yoghurt and crackers. I'm assuming that's all you've eaten?" He explained.

"How?" She was stunned.

"I've been taught by the best," he answered, patted her knee and stood to walk to the kitchen, bag in hand.

Sara followed and leaned against the doorframe, watching him rummage for a pan and utensils. She was really touched by his concern, and was honestly glad he was taking the time out to be with her. "What's in the duffle bag?" She asked cocking her head in its direction.

Greg continued to slice the eggplant, "Clothes, shower stuff…it's my emergency bag."

"You think you can force me to eat and then crash on my couch?"

He never looked up from his task; he was actually more concentrated in his cooking than she had ever seen him in the lab. "That's the plan."

She nodded. "Thank you," she whispered and walked back into the living room, turning on the TV.

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	3. Chapter three

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter Three**

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_**When a deep injury is done to us, we never recover until we forgive.  
**_–**_Alan Paton. _**

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The darkness richly encircled her bed, casting unidentifiable shadows over her ceiling. Sara lay sprawled on her back, splintered arm propped by her head on another pillow, tracing the ghostly contours with sharp, weary eyes.

Sleep came only with the threat of nightmares, the vivid, lasting images that haunted her by day manifesting into their own version of reality in slumber. A doctor had prescribed her sleeping pills, but she refused to relinquish that last grasp of control on her consciousness, and left them unopened in her medicine cabinet.

The distant sounds of Greg snoring drifted from the next room, and Sara rolled to a sitting position, throwing the sheets from her body. She ran the fingers of her good hand tentatively through her short brown locks, avoiding a particularly nasty graze on her hairline, and her eyes locked on the cordless phone by the side of her bed.

For the smallest, fleeting moment, she wanted to pick it up, and hear the sound of Grissom's voice. The velvety, soothing tone caressing her ear, reminding her that he was safe, and they had gotten out alive.

Then she remembered the reason he had been there in the first place, and looked away, lowering her hand to her side.

Sara closed her eyes, rising to her feet, moving soundlessly across the carpet into the living room. Greg was sprawled in an uncomfortable position on her sofa, arms and legs hanging over all edges, blanket twisted around his lank form. She watched him a moment, sliding past the sofa towards the small kitchen, wondering if he had any idea how much his mere presence comforted her.

She lifted a glass from an upper cupboard, holding it under the faucet and filling it with water. She leant against the cabinet, swallowing the cool liquid with relish. Water, something she had always taken for granted, was now just another petty luxury she savoured. Just another mere comfort he had taken from her.

**The warehouse was a tall and imposing structure, jagged boards jutting out over the doorway, and rusty, chemical drums littering the front. **

**David's coroner van was still missing, presumedly held up in the traffic that had hindered Sara's own progress to the outer industrial neighbourhood. **

**Brass' unmarked police cruiser was parked under a tree, with the hefty captain leaning casually against it, examining something on his shoe. He glanced up as Sara's Tahoe ground to a halt, and she jumped out, sliding her sunglasses over her eyes as she approached him. **

"**Hey, Sara", he called amiably, straightening from his vehicle. "You solo on this one?"**

**She nodded, flashing him a brief smile in greeting. "What've we got?" **

**Brass nodded back at the dilapidated building, where the two arriving officers emerged, features distinctly ashen. One retreated hastily to the bushes, the unmistakable sounds of him retching immediately reaching their ears. **

**Sara tilted an eyebrow, merely glancing at Brass; awaiting his explanation. **

"**Got a call from a few neighbourhood kids", he said, gesturing vaguely down the road where she assumed they had come from. "They thought it was abandoned and found something… interesting when they decided to break in and check the place out."**

**Sara lifted her kit against her side, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Okay. Well, let's go check it out".**

**Brass hesitated, placing a hand on her upper arm. "I gotta warn you, kid… it's pretty messy in there. Even for us".**

**Sara nodded, letting him know she could handle it, even as she let her mind anticipate his grim warning. **

Sara lowered her head, depositing the empty glass on the edge of the sink. Shakes involuntarily ran through her body as her mind flashed back to the influx of their nightmare, and she slid to the floor, clutching her arms around herself, allowing a muted, broken sob to burst from her lips.

**The interior of the warehouse was dim; with muted shafts of sunlight filtering through the overhead slats of wood, and Sara slid her shades on top of her head, giving her eyes a moment to adjust. **

**Brass moved more leisurely behind her, examining the scene with his typical, practiced alertness. **

**Sara's movements were more fluid as she initially took in the scene. The vast warehouse led into a narrow hall, littered with boxes and old plastic crates. Sara withdrew her maglite, striding slowly down it, rounding a corner. She carefully stepped around several serrated scraps of metal, wondering exactly what the warehouse had housed when it was in operation. **

**She stopped, shining the light down the confined passage as her gaze took in the constructions before her. Crude, iron bars ran alongside one side of the hall, extending nearly all the way to the ceiling. They separated off into separate, provisional prison cells. **

**She opened her mouth in surprise as the stench hit her nostrils just as abruptly, and she forced herself to breath through her mouth as she neared the closest cell. **

**It was unlocked, but clearly no one had attempted to break into the cell to commence resuscitation. She could see why. **

**Rough chains circled the arms and shoulders of the victim, pinning the man against the grimy cinder block wall. His entire body was horribly disfigured and blackened, torn up with horrific burns and gashes. His hair stood impossibly stiff and on end, and his clothes were torn and singed, partially melted onto the barely remaining skin of his torso. **

**Sara swallowed, forcing back the bile that she felt, suddenly understanding why such seasoned officers had thrown up at a scene. **

**She drew in a deep breath, scanning the interior of the cell, trying to determine what had caused his electrocution. **

**Further examination of the body revealed fragments of skin melted to the wall, and she realised he had been electrocuted in place somehow. **

**She lowered her maglite, huffing a small, shaky breath. This was torture of the cruellest kind. Someone had gone to severe lengths to ensure this man suffered. **

**A low, strange sound came from somewhere further to her right, and Sara jumped, twisting to her side. She shone her light into the next cell, and her cry for Brass died on her lips. **

**A woman sat huddled in the far corner of the nearest cell, concealed by the dark shadows lining the edges of the edifice. Her hair was coiled in oily, thick masses in front of her features, but her eyes peered out at Sara between the strands, wide and unfocused. **

**Gashes and lighter, less severe burns marked her arms and neck, and Sara stared at her in horror, as another low, mumbled gurgle came from her lips. **

**Just as Sara moved forward, she sprung to life, launching at the locked door of the cage with force. The chains that bound her wrists immediately pulled her back, slamming her against the wall, but she merely struggled again, mindless to the pain she had to be causing herself, raging like some wild, broken animal. **

"**BRASS!" Sara shouted, finding her voice, unconsciously stepping back against the other wall. She felt tears prick at her eyes, and she blinked them away, gripped with overwhelming sadness as she stared at this tortured, insane woman. **

"Sara. Sara. Are you okay?"

The quaking, fearful voice broke into her thoughts, and Sara hastily blinked, swallowing as she glanced up at the hovering figure.

Greg crouched down in front of her, approaching her like a wounded animal, and Sara swallowed, leaning her head back against the counter and closing her eyes.

"I'm fine. I am. I'm fine".

Greg hesitated, and she looked at him, hair mussed at all angles, striped blue pyjama pants ridiculously out of place in her plain, muted kitchen.

She saw the confliction in his gaze, and she blinked, slowly shaking her head. "Greg—"

"Do you want me to call Grissom?"

She knew he would ask. Why couldn't he understand she wasn't the same Sara she had been two weeks ago? Grissom's presence wasn't a comfort for her anymore-- he wasn't the neutral party of her life she could rely on to remain ever constant and non-changing in his feelings for her.

"No", she snapped, more forcefully than intended. "I don't need Grissom".

Grissom was handling things. Grissom was seeing a counsellor tomorrow. A psychologist. After everything they had been through, and he felt secure enough to speak to a psychologist.

Greg swallowed, obviously sensing he had said the wrong thing. The ex-lab rat looked suitably upset to have caused her any further distress. "Okay. Well, do you think maybe it's a good idea for you to take some of that Restoril the doctor prescribed?"

Sara blinked, surprised he knew that, and he shrugged casually. "I may have interrogated the doctor a little before I came here."

She sighed, closing her eyes heavily. "I don't want to take it. I don't need drugs to get through this."

Greg shrugged gently. "Hey, I'm with you on that, but these are just going to help you sleep. They might even fix the anxiety a little. It's not a bad thing to admit you need help sometimes, Sara".

Sara looked away, and Greg rose, holding out his hands. She silently allowed him to pull her to her feet, meeting his gaze hesitantly. "I'm only taking one".

A small, sad smile pulled at Greg's lips, and he quickly hid it, nodding with grim satisfaction. "All you need", he agreed, guiding her back to her bedroom.

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"Now, Dr. Grissom, I understand you might be a little reluctant to be here. It's understandable, particularly after the trauma you've endured. I want you to understand I'm only here to address any concerns you might have, and to talk through anything you might feel like sharing."

Grissom stared back at the aging doctor, an unthreatening, greying woman with kindly, open brown eyes and a non-inquisitive expression. He thought Sara might like her, and that Dr. Muller was probably a good choice for a psychologist, a stereotypical figure if ever he saw one.

As a personal preference, he didn't share personal details with strangers. He rarely even shared them with those he considered close to him. He thought of Catherine as his best friend, yet she still knew little about him beyond a professional level, and what she did know she had coerced forcibly out of him.

He was here because the department needed reassurance that at least one of them was recovering from the ordeal properly, and because… despite his best efforts, he couldn't lock his emotions up inside anymore. He needed to at least vent some of his emotions, allow himself to understand that his reactions were normal. That Sara's reactions were normal.

He trusted this woman, at least on some basic level. She had spoken both to he and Sara initially when they were first admitted to hospital, but he doubted Sara would remember that experience too readily. She hadn't exactly reacted in the best way possible.

"How have you been readjusting to your work?" Dr. Miller asked politely. He found it somewhat reassuring she didn't have a notepad of diagnostic notes open on her lap, and equally reassuring she hadn't asked him to lie down on a horizontal couch.

He shrugged, studying the qualifications over her shoulder. "The work isn't very taxing at this stage", he replied nonchalantly. "It's not difficult."

She nodded, studying him thoughtfully. "That sounds like it bothers you".

Grissom sighed, folding his palms on his lap. "I've never been particularly partial to paperwork. I just want to return to my old routine as soon as possible".

"That's understandable. So if work isn't an issue, is there something else that bothers you?"

Grissom met her gaze, unconsciously rubbing the graze on his wrist again. "Why is this effecting Sara so badly?"

The doctor grew quiet as she contemplated this question. "It's very possible she has developed Post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD," she admitted at last. "It's not uncommon for people after they have experienced a life-threatening event. There are many factors that make a person more susceptible to it. Heightened stress in their lives, or an early age of long-lasting childhood trauma such as abuse or sexual assault."

Grissom swallowed, staring numbly at the doctor. Abuse. He remembered Sara's confession about her family's dark past after her suspension a few months ago. She hadn't said she was abused personally, and he hadn't asked. Unfortunately, it was a possibility he hadn't allowed himself to consider at the time because he wasn't willing to accept it.

He lowered his head, trying out the words. "Post traumatic stress. Is there treatment for it?"

Dr Muller shrugged. "There are some medications, but they don't really solve the problem. My best advice would be therapy, but it sounds like Sara has already refused that."

He nodded. "Yes. She think she can work through it alone".

The doctor sighed. "Ordinarily, I'd say that is possible, albeit not recommended. Sara has proven she is a strong, versatile woman. But her trauma was… one of the severest I have ever seen. Her behaviour may become even more erratic. Sara can't face this alone, despite what she may believe. The more she isolates herself from others… the harder it will be for her to recover."

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	4. Chapter four

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter four**

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"_**Courage is not the lack of fear but the ability to face it."**  
**---- Lt. John B. Putnam Jr. (1921-1944)**_

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When Sara finally woke from her dreamless, drug-induced sleep, she realized it had only lasted six hours. She could hear the TV in the next room, and was reminded once again of the comfort she drew from Greg just being in the other room.

She shifted slightly, and her muscles groaned in protest. She had been so tried she was still in the same position she was in when she drifted off into sleep. The stitches in her back were starting to itch. The frustration washed over her again. Her shoulder was too sore to sleep on her right side, her ribs on her left side kept her from lying on her other side, and she was never able to sleep on her stomach. Her only option was her back, however painful it was. Even when she thought she had some control she realized it had been taken from her.

Slowly rolling out of bed, Sara walked into the living room, and had to fight the laughter she felt boiling up within her. Greg was sitting on the couch, eating ice cream out of the carton, with several DVD cases strewn about the coffee table, including _Divine Secrets of the Yaya Sisterhood, You've Got Mail_, and_ When Harry Met Sally_. Next to him on the couch was a box of Kleenex. "Greg?"

He looked up startled, but no shame showed on his face.

"Getting in touch with your feminine side?" she asked, looking at the scene, and noticed he was about 30 minutes into _Two Weeks Notice. _"Oh, I love this movie," she exclaimed, and sat next to her friend.

He chuckled. "You have no war movies, no action films, but a butt load of chick flicks! What was I supposed to watch?"

She jabbed him in the ribs and tilted her head toward the balled up tissues. "You seemed to get into them."

He pulled her into hug, and they both shifted so they could lie down. He settled back on his left side and let her manoeuvre her body into a position where she could lay on her side with very little pressure on her injured ribs. Leaning back against him she lifted her right arm up slightly so he could lay his comfortably around her waist. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "I would have never guessed you were such a sappy movie fan!"

"Well, we see the worst of human life, and the worst moments in individual's lives, I've never really wanted to see the dramatized version. These remind me that life can end up happily ever after." Sara chuckled as Lucy accused George of being the most selfish human being on the planet, and laughed outright at his comeback, _"That's just silly, have you met everyone on the planet?"_

Greg felt so happy to hear her laugh again. "Did you sleep ok?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I was out. Did I hear the phone ring just before I fell asleep."

She felt him tense slightly. "Yeah, Grissom called."

"You talked to him?" She instantly regretted not answering and was just as quickly was relieved she hadn't.

The amusement he was feeling touched his voice. "Yeah, I love it when he's thrown off balance. After he heard my voice, it took him a while to formulate a sentence."

Sara knew that ordinarily Grissom would have been thrown off by such a situation, but now she wondered how much of his inability to speak was due to his mental battles. "What did he want?"

"He wanted you to have the phone number of the psychiatrist he went to see. I wrote it down for you, and told him I'd give it to you." He motioned toward the pad of paper in front of them.

Cocking her head to look at it. "Dr. Kathleen Muller," she tested it out. She didn't feel ready to talk to anyone let alone a psychiatrist. They continued to watch the movie in companionable silence. As Sandra Bullock's character tried to pretend she didn't have feelings for Hugh Grant, Sara began to think back on the days where she would struggle in the office and Grissom had been completely clueless. As much as she had hated those days, now she longed for them.

She knew she was lucky to be alive, and she should just take solace in that. Most of all, she reminded herself that there was a state worse than death.

**Sara approached the adjacent cell hesitantly, Brass had to push her slightly out of the way so he could enter first. "Brass, she needs medical attention, not an opposing form in her face," she stated, slightly annoyed.**

"**Sara, I already called in for the paramedics," he explained, and opened the door slowly. Only then did Sara begin to notice that he was trying to protect both her and victim. She was so intent on helping the girl, she never heard Jim's request for medical help. He eased himself into the cell, but despite his cautious actions the young women threw herself back against the wall behind her. **

**Sara shivered at the mental state of the captive. More then likely she had witnessed the death of the man in the next cell, and she herself looked like she had been tortured severely. **

"**We'll need a bolt cutter," her companion stated, looking at the chains. **

**Sara surveyed the area around the female, trying to creep closer to her. Glancing toward the wall she couldn't quite believe what she saw. "There's no way…" she whispered to herself.**

**Brass turned his attention to the brunette, as she removed something from the wall with gloved hands. He was shocked she was touching items in the crime scene without snapping a few evidence photos first. "Sara?"**

**She was creeping toward the closest chained hand with the item. "I don't think we'll need a bolt cutter."**

**The object of Sara's attention tried to run from her. "It's okay, we're going to help you. It's okay now." She continued to whisper encouraging words while the key that she found slid into the lock and turned with ease.**

"**The key was in her cell?" Brass was more confused then he had ever been.**

**Sara nodded as she unlocked the other hand. "Yes, and within her reach." The girl collapsed into Sara's arms. "You're okay. Can you tell me your name?" **

She had stayed with the girl while they waited for the paramedics, and asked Brass to call Greg in to help her process the scene. She felt bad subjecting her colleague to such a gruesome scene for his limited experience, but she was going to need help. The girl clung to her arm as Sara rocked her gently, but never spoke a word.

Greg must have felt her tense. "Hey, you okay?"

Sara couldn't answer. The memories were too vivid. She merely nodded.

He squeezed her slightly. "We have about 3 hours before shift begins. Anything you want to do before we go in?"

She considered her options, and knew she would regret the decision. "I want to go see her."

Greg was shocked. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"No," she answered quietly.

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They pulled into the hospital parking lot. The drive over was one made in silence. Greg knew she was stressed, but didn't know how to console her.

He parked the vehicle in his normal spot. Having been to visit her everyday for two weeks, he fell into a routine right down to the path he walked to the hospital entrance.

Once inside, Greg walked slightly in front of her, keeping her between his body and the wall. Sara wondered if he was aware of what he was doing. Either way, she appreciated the protectiveness.

The elevator was wonderfully empty. She was having a hard enough time with enclosed spaces as it was. She leaned against the railing, and watched as Greg paced back and forth in front of her. "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

He stopped in mid stride. "I'm just not sure this is such a good idea now that we're here."

Reaching for his hand, she squeezed it tightly. "I need to do this."

He squeezed back, and did not let go. Soon the doors opened, revealing a long corridor of doors. As they walked together down the hall, Sara surveyed all the names written on the doors followed by a string of letters. While she knew the many different combinations signified years of education, and research, she wondered what the person behind the door was like. Had it only been a month since she walked down a similar hallway searching for Dr. Lee Wilson, PhD? She was a completely different person now.

Greg lead them to a desk in the middle of the floor, and she let him do all the talking, still holding her hand. The woman stepped out from behind the desk and led them down to the end of another hallway.

**Sara opened the door, and greeted the women behind the desk. She was dressed very professionally, and offered a sincere smile, "Ms. Sidle?" she asked, glancing at the desk calendar before her.**

"**Yes Ma'am." She offered a smile back and glanced around the room. She always hated psychiatrist offices. **

**The women stood, and shook her hand. "I'll tell Dr. Wilson you're here. He cleared his afternoon schedule for you."**

'**She had far too many Wheaties today,' Sara thought to herself and watched the perky young woman disappear behind a large oak door. **

**Sara looked at the framed poster directly behind the receptionist's desk, and she wondered why the walls of offices were always littered with motivational pictures. The photo was a beautiful shot of the Great Wall of China, but she laughed out loud at the caption at the bottom.**

"**I don't think motivational quotes are supposed to make you laugh," a kind voice said behind her.**

**She stood up straight and felt a tinge of red creep up on her face. "No sir, it's just that it says teamwork at the bottom of the picture… I don't think slave labour qualifies as teamwork." **

**The man before her nodded his head. "I never read them, but now that you say that…Janice, replace that picture…with an ink blot or something." **

**Sara laughed again. "Dr. Wilson? I'm Sara Sidle with the Las Vegas Crime Lab." She stuck her hand out as he took it and motioned her to sit in his office.**

**Sara had looked up his bio before she had even made an appointment to talk with the man sitting in front of her. He was a popular marriage counsellor, and had several published books. His dissertation to obtain his PhD was on 'The Power of Love'. **

**She sized him up quietly; in general she would describe him as average. Average build, brown hair perfectly in place, but his eyes made her stop. He exuded confidence and a refinement, but his blue eyes seemed to be searching her soul. She shifted slightly, and began to speak. "Dr. Wilson—"**

"**You can call me Lee," he interrupted. "You're not here to see me as a patient-- there's not need for the professional separation."**

**She narrowed her eyes, very uncomfortable with using his first name; it seemed intimate at this moment. "Okay," she simply answered and glanced at her notes. "You were working with Marni Mullins and Jerrod Clark, correct?"**

**He smiled. "That's right. They're getting married. Wonderful couple. I've never seen two people more in love with each other."**

"**If that's true, why were they seeing a marriage counsellor before they were even married?" She was confused, and for some unknown reason becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his presence.**

"**Sara, a lot of people come to see a counsellor when the problem has become too big to fix, and they expect a magical cure. I encourage couples to get counselling before they have problems," he explained.**

**She bristled at the use of her name. "I see. When did you see them last?"**

**He opened his appointment book. "Two weeks ago. They missed their appointment last week, and have not returned my call. Has something happened to them?" His concern seemed to touch his voice, and his body language appeared to agree with that assessment. **

"**Mr. Clark is dead, and Ms. Mullins is in the hospital," she answered, watching his reaction.**

"**What happened?" He seemed genuinely shocked, and dropped his pen.**

"**Mr. Clark was tortured to death, and Ms. Mullins sustained injuries consistent with torture." He didn't seem phased by the details, and she was getting a headache from the mixed signals she was getting. This was the primary reason she hated therapists; they new how to manipulate a person into thinking or feeling a certain way.**

"**They were so much in love-- they were going to have a wonderful life…"**

"**Is there anyone you can think of that who would have a grudge against either one of them? Someone that would want to hurt them?" She was hoping for any lead, no matter how small.**

**The doctor shook his head. "No, they were living the American dream."**

"**It ended in a nightmare, Dr. Wilson," she told him sadly.**

The door swung open and Greg and Sara were allowed to enter first. Sara spotted the chair, sat down next to the bed before her, and took the delicate hand that was lying lifelessly on the blanket.

"Marni?" She had no idea what her current state of mind was.

The petite blonde stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, but they were glazed over. "Jerrod?" she asked weakly.

Sara almost started to cry, she leaned in to stroke her hair. "No sweetie, it's Sara."

"Jerrod? I'm sorry Jerrod, I'm sorry, I couldn't do it." Her breathing was erratic.

The nurse stepped over to check her vital signs. "She's been in and out of consciousness, but she's never been coherent. The psychiatrists like to keep her sedated for the time being."

Sara could no longer hold back the tears, and finally started to cry. "I'm sorry Marni, I'm so sorry." Greg stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "This could have been me…"

He massaged her neck. "It's not, Sara-- you both survived. You and Grissom, you're going to get through this."

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	5. Chapter five

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter five**

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**_Feeling hope can seem so far away  
Thinking... It's good to find  
Would you really let this go to waste?  
Would it really change your life?_**

-**_Paloalto 'The World Outside'._**

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**Processing was a slow, methodical progress. It didn't comfort Sara, like it normally did. Taking steps to solve a case usually calmed her and helped to focus her, but this crime scene merely incensed her carefully concealed rage even further.**

**The cell where their electrocution victim had been found reeked of burnt flesh, and she shivered as she snapped some overall photographs. She felt Greg pause in the adjoining cell, staring down at something intently.**

**She turned to look at him, frowning slightly. "Okay, Greggo?"**

**He cleared his throat, straightening quickly. He had come a long way since his days in the lab, but she knew he felt like he was still constantly proving himself, and hated to be caught in a moment of weakness. "Yeah. I just… I can't believe what people can do to one another sometimes".**

**She pursed her lips together grimly, returning to her work as she marvelled at the truth of his words. "Neither can I, Greg".**

"Sanders! My office, RIGHT NOW!"

Greg's head whipped up, and he stopped mid-conversation with Mia, barely able to catch sight of Grissom's irate expression before he stormed further down the hall.

Greg exchanged an uneasy glance with the new DNA tech, feeling his palms clam up with sweat. It had been a long time since he had witnessed Grissom so angry, and even longer since it had been directed at him. The old boss was a rare sight these days, and he wasn't sure if he should be reassured by the sudden reversion to normalcy or afraid for his life.

He swallowed; bracing himself as he started down the hall, and slowly rounded the corner for Grissom's small office.

He cleared his throat when he saw the tense man seated behind his desk, flipping forcefully through a random casefile.

"Uh, you called… boss?"

Greg practically squirmed under the sudden fury directed his way. As discreetly as he could, he closed the door behind him, feeling the tension suffusing the room pick up several notches.

"Is there something seriously wrong with you, Greg?" his supervisor asked, voice low and monotonous.

Greg blinked. That wasn't exactly what he had expected. "I uh, well… what?"

"What could have possibly made you think it was a good idea to take Sara to see Marni Mullins?"

Greg closed his eyes. Oh. Damn. Grissom had always intimidated him, but his concern for Sara overrode his instinct for self-preservation and he pushed on foolishly. "She asked", he said helplessly.

Grissom stared at him like he had lost his mind. "I don't care if she _asked_", he said tightly. "Do you really think Sara knows what is best for her own recovery right now?"

"Look, I just wanted to help her…"

"By letting her see the victim she could have become?" Grissom exploded, rising to his feet. "I thought spending the last day in her apartment would have been enough to convince you she isn't handling this well!"

Greg bit back a retort. He knew Grissom wasn't handling _that_ scenario well. "Grissom, she's handling this in her own way. It may not be the way you envisioned, but she's dong the best she can".

Grissom looked like he was going to something seriously violent, and Greg momentarily wondered if he was even capable of it. He considered taking a step back before he forced himself not to display such a blatant weakness, and he stiffened, coiled tight with wound up tension.

The older man's eyes widened as if he realised what he had been about to do, and he suddenly sagged in resignation, putting one hand over his face. "Just… just get out of my office, Greg. Please"

Greg really didn't need to be told twice. He backed out into the hall, inwardly wondering when Grissom was going to acknowledge his own demons and deal with the trauma _he_ had suffered, and when he was going to face up to Sara himself instead of using Greg as a faltering go-between.

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"**Do you need a hand?" **

**Sara glanced back at the hesitant nurse with a wan smile, slowly shaking her head. "No, I think I should do this alone. Thanks."**

**The nurse shrugged, returning to her station, and Sara braced herself before striding through the door in front of her. **

**Marni Mullins was flat on her back on the starch white bed, heavily sedated. Her glazed eyes studied the ceiling, and Sara hesitantly approached her, lowering her kit to the floor. **

"**Hi, Marni. I'm Sara, do you remember me?"**

**The woman's eyes barely darted in her direction, and Sara heaved a sorrowful sigh, snapping on her latex gloves. **

"**That's okay if you don't want to talk, you're probably tired, right?"**

**She pulled the hard plastic chair over beside the bed, and perched on the edge, carefully removing several swabs from her kit. "I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable, but I need to do a few things that might feel a little strange, okay? I'll be gentle, I promise".**

**Talking to someone who was still warm but who wasn't responding was starting to unnerve her, and she hesitated before withdrawing a metal tool to scrape beneath her fingernails. **

**Marni hovered impossibly small and frail under the blankets, and Sara swallowed as her eyes unconsciously took in her injuries. The nurses claimed she had been suffering vivid hallucinations before they were forced to sedate her, and since she had remained on the fringes of consciousness, muttering incoherently. **

**Sara continued processing her, wincing as Marni hissed when she examined the bruises under her neck. She was infused with a similar feeling of rage when she encountered a particularly depraved case. This was… one of the worse things she had ever seen in her line of work. She wanted to find the bastard responsible. She needed to. Her own piece of mind was starting to depend on it. **

"**Love surpasses pain."**

**Sara blinked, startled when the soft utterance broke from Marni's lips. **

**She leant closer, struggling to decipher the words. "What did you say?"**

"**Love surpasses pain. Love surpasses pain. Love surpasses pain."**

**Marni's head tossed wearily back and forth as she repeated this senseless mantra. Sara stepped back uncertainly, wondering if she should call a nurse. **

**The decision was made for her as the nurse returned to the room, a small trolley wheeled out in front of her. Sara gestured to Marni, feeling awkwardly useless and out of place.**

"**I'm not sure what's wrong. She just started talking".**

**The nurse nodded, unphased by her reaction. "She's been spouting off that same line for the last hour or so. Do you think it might be probative to your case?"**

**Sara was uncertain. "I honestly don't know. Has she said anything else? About what it means, or where it comes from?"**

**The nurse shook her head. "No. It's as big a mystery to me as it is to you".**

Sara stalked briskly down the hallway, intent on her path. She ignored the looks of surprise, manoeuvring around several nervous lab techs as she continued towards her destination. The prying whispers had extended to her ears, and she knew they were all questioning her mental health. Well, she didn't really give a damn what they thought.

She held her splintered arm against her side as she nudged open Grissom's office door with the other, eyes narrowed. She was indignant on her friend's behalf, but more so on her own, and it countermanded her persistent avoidance of her supervisor.

Grissom was bent over his desk, attention seemingly riveted to his paperwork, when she knew he had sensed her presence the moment she appeared in the threshold. His gaze slid up and met hers, and she glimpsed a mingled flash of fear and longing.

He cleared his throat, lowering his pen carefully. "Sara…"

She closed the door behind her, staring at him staunchly. "We need to talk".

It had been a long time coming, but she couldn't say she wanted to deal with the situation. She had been hiding behind Greg for too long now, and she couldn't keep doing it if he was reprimanded because of her own defencelessness.

"What gives you the right to tell Greg what constitutes my recovery?" she said angrily. "I am not a child, Grissom, and I am not your responsibility."

Grissom swallowed, looking down. "Sara, I just… I just wanted to protect you".

She blinked at him, realising how utterly out of character this admission would have been a few weeks ago. He was still reserved, but his protectiveness towards her had become oddly noticeable, and he wasn't trying to hide it.

Why did he have to do this to her? Now?

The pain was evident in the way they looked at each other, and Sara wondered if that would ever fade. Even being in a room with him, alone, was making her hands slick with perspiration, and her heartbeat wild with unadulterated anxiety. God, would she ever be able to look at him the same way again? She felt like the love she had for him was just reinforced more than ever and yet… _it_ was her fault. Everything. He had no reason to love her back, and she didn't want him to.

"**What are you reading?"**

**Sara jumped, glancing up as Grissom strode casually into the breakroom, moving over to the counter to pour himself some of Greg's amorously brewed coffee.**

**She cleared her throat, lowering the book carefully to the table. "It's, uh, nothing interesting. Just something to do with my case."**

**She didn't need Gil Grissom to think she was reading _The Healing Power of Love_ because she needed pointers. **

**He leant against the counter, studying her with an uncomfortable amount of intensity. She shifted, suddenly nervous. "What?" she asked, a little more impatiently than intended. **

**Grissom lifted a shoulder, cradling his mug loosely. "How long has it been since you've been home, Sara?"**

**Sara released a sigh, closing the book under her linked palms. "I'm fine, Grissom. I'm working the case."**

"**I seem to remember hearing that a lot. Particularly last year."**

**She knew what he was insinuating, and she narrowed her eyes. "So every time I get invested in a case you're going to assume that I'm a drunk, or I'm going to do something stupid?"**

**He stared back at her calmly. "No. I just think that you're getting too invested and it's not good for you. All I'm asking is that you get some rest, Sara. Go home for a few hours."**

**She looked away, knowing that he could easily pull her from the case if he assumed she was too invested. He wanted some indication that she was capable of handling this; particularly now he knew the motivating factor behind her often unhealthy fixation with abuse cases. **

"**This one is different, Grissom", she muttered, gaze drawn once again to Dr. Miller's book, as if it held the answers she was looking for. "Is has nothing to do with… You didn't see what had been done to them".**

**He nodded, and an unusual amount of sympathy coloured in his eyes. "I know. I'm just worried about you. That's all".**

**She blinked, surprised by the admission. She brushed it off. "You mean 'concerned', right?"**

**A small, wan smile of amusement tugged at Grissom's lips as he pulled away from the counter. "Right".**

**Once she was sure he was walking away, Sara glanced up to study his retreating form, and not for the first time wished she could choose who she fell in love with. Not that she didn't want to love Grissom as a person, but she felt like she was wasting her time. He would never return her feelings. 'Emotionally unavailable', she reminded herself.**

**Sighing, she turned her attention back to the book:**

'…**love has the unique characteristic of carrying the definition of an emotion, but is in reality an action. The first step in understanding love, and its power, is to erase the social definition from your mind. Forget about 'love at first sight', it's a myth. If you think you are feeling this, label it as 'lust at first sight'. The next step is to recognize the different types of love. The English language is a huge barrier to this step. People can say they love pizza, and then say they love their children. These are two very different types of love.**

'**The love for a child can be the most intense, and we will explore this in a later chapter, but for now it's important to realize that while this type of love can be felt the most intensely it is not the most powerful. Love, in a relationship that society would consider true love, or soul mates, is the most powerful love a human can experience. The reason for this is that the individuals involved enter into this love willingly, knowing the risks, and choose to remain dedicated to their love regardless of the consequences. It's this love that surpasses pain--'**

**Sara dropped the book as if it were on fire. She had been so caught up in her situation and how the doctor's words applied to her life that she almost forgotten she was reading the book for research. Almost, until Marni's face flashed into her mind as she read that last, familiar sentence. **

"**I got you, you bastard," she whispered, threw the book on the table in front of her, and left in search of Brass.**

"It's not up to you to protect me", she said flatly, and turned to leave the room.

"Sara", Grissom said softly.

His voice was so pleading, so achingly painful, she forced herself to turn and meet his gaze.

They held for long moment, and Grissom finally spoke. "You don't have to go through this alone".

She straightened, unable to look at the searing intensity of his eyes. She refused to be swayed by it. She couldn't be. "I'm not alone, Grissom. And neither are you".

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	6. Chapter six

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter Six**

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"**_Remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall -- think of it, always."_**

_**--Mahatma Gandhi**_

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Grissom held Sara's gaze as he attempted to convey his concern and care for her. Never in his life had anyone done what she had done for him, and now she was in his office trying to comfort him. Her actions went far beyond saving his life, and he had absolutely no clue how to handle that. He had tried to help her while she was still in the hospital, but she had rejected him.

**Grissom could see her fighting the comforting black void of unconsciousness. He understood the feeling. His injuries were nowhere near as severe as hers, but the time he spent under sedation kept him blissfully detached from reality. He had been sitting in the same chair since he escaped the nurses.**

**He watched her chest rise and fall in awe of her. He was not worthy of the love she felt for him. **

**Her eyes fluttered open, and the fear was instantly evident. "Sara?"**

**She squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the tears to spill over and run down her face. Grissom reached over to wipe them away, but she jerked away from his touch.**

**Trying to hide the hurt from his voice, he spoke softly. "It's okay, Sara, it's over, and I'm here. I'm here for you, Sara."**

**Shaking her head slightly, her raspy voice finally filled the room, but he was unprepared for the pain that could grip his heart. "Gil, please, just go. I need you to leave me alone."**

"I was alone." He finally shared with her his deepest pain. He swore he would never tell her.

Sara was taken aback by his statement, and tried to find its context. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, closed it, and then attempted to make sense of what was happening.

He watched her contemplate his words and felt slightly relieved she was clueless. He had suspected she wouldn't remember those initial words, but he had to know. "When you woke up, in the hospital, you pushed me away."

"Grissom, I…" She had no idea how to explain to him her inner turmoil. "I don't know that I'm ready to talk about this, but you did nothing wrong."

He wanted to press the issue, but respected her needs. "Can you spend the night with me?" he blurted out.

Her face paled slightly. "Excuse me?"

Grissom shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He didn't mean for his words to come out the way they had. He cleared his throat. "After shift, would you be willing to come watch a movie and have dinner with me…or I could come to your place?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know," she responded hesitantly. "Can you give me to the end of shift to think about it?"

He nodded. "Of course." It was encouraging to him that she was considering it at all.

"But you need to not chew Greg out again, at least not because of me," she explained, trying to change the subject.

"Deal." He answered, and also shifted gears. "How is Marni?"

Completely off-guard that he would ask her, Sara was also curious as to why he had taken to using her first name. He always remained detached, but perhaps they shared a connection now. "She's still incoherent. They're keeping her sedated most of the time."

"Did they say anything about her recovery?"

"I didn't ask. I couldn't…I didn't talk to the doctor." She was aware of the weakness she had just revealed, but she hoped he wouldn't call her on it. "I still don't understand why. Even after all of our…conversations… I don't understand."

**Sara paced in the observation room adjacent with the interrogation room, waiting impatiently for Brass to deliver her suspect. She walked over to pick up the phone hanging on the wall, but stopped when Dr. Wilson entered the nearby room. He was instructed to sit. **

**Sara studied him through the two-way mirror. He sat, unmoving in his chair, without displaying an ounce of anxiety. **

"**He's a cool one," Brass observed behind her.**

**She grabbed the book. "Let's turn up the heat." She stalked out of the room, with more determination than ever. **

**As she walked into the interrogation room, Wilson smiled at her. "Sara. How are you?"**

"**It's Ms. Sidle, Dr. Wilson. You're not here for a social visit, let's keep it professional." Her tone was cold.**

**Brass watched the two stare each other down, neither blinking, and he shifted to stand in the center of the room to remind both of them he was there.**

**Sara slid the book forward on the table that separated them. "Love surpasses pain," she quoted.**

**He grinned slightly. "It does."**

**She remained unphased. "You have some twisted ideas in there, Dr. Wilson."**

**He flipped through it nonchalantly, admiring his work. "I'm glad you liked it, _Ms._ Sidle."**

"**Did Mr. Clark, and Ms. Mullins enjoy your twisted theories?" She was indignant, and dared him to gloat about his actions.**

**He closed the book. "They got a lot out of our time together."**

"**Did you torture them for entertainment, or to prove your theories?" she asked, leaning forward.**

**Wilson leaned forward in response. "I counseled them."**

"**I'm sure they were better off without your help." Sara was realizing she wasn't going to trick him into confessing, and needed to change tactics.**

**Before she could speak again, he interrupted her thoughts. "Ms. Sidle." He seemed to be testing out the sound of the words. "Never married?"**

**Jim stepped forward protectively. Sara looked up at him to convey that she was all right.**

"**I don't see how that is relevant."**

"**You can't understand this book if you've never chosen to love someone. I'm not talking about family-- very little risk is involved with loving them." His voice was almost soothing.**

**She smiled tensely back at him. "You don't know my family."**

**He studied her. "So much pain, Sara." His eyes narrowed. "But you've chosen to love, haven't you?"**

**She stood, feeling claustrophobic under his scrutiny. "This isn't about me, Dr. Wilson! This is about you torturing that couple for your own sadistic research!"**

**Grissom chose that moment to walk into the room, but stopped mid-stride as he sensed Sara's tension. He looked at her, and then shot a challenging look at the doctor. "Dr. Wilson's attorney is here." **

**Sara never took her eyes off their suspect. "He's not in custody; he's just here to help us answer some questions."**

**The young redheaded lawyer stepped into the small room. "His secretary was concerned, and asked me to make sure there were no problems I needed to know about."**

**Sara picked up the case file, and turned to walk out the door. "We're through here anyway."**

"**Ms. Sidle?"**

**His voice sent shivers up her spine, but she turned to face him. He was holding out the book for her. Sara stepped forward to take it, but he held onto it long enough for his finger to stroke hers. She yanked it forcefully from his hand and spun on her heels, not looking back.**

Grissom knew he had broached a subject that was too dangerous to delve into at the office, and Sara seemed to be remembering something. "Sara… are you okay?"

She blinked rapidly, and nodded. "Sometimes I can't get him out of my mind," she confessed.

Grissom understood her completely. They both had injuries that would physically heal, but he wondered about the mental scars.

Sara was feeling uncomfortable. They were still at work, and she needed to regain her focus. "I should get back to work."

He tried to not let his disappointment show. This had been the first time she hadn't wanted to bolt from the same room he was in. He tried to remember what Dr. Muller told him. She need people she could trust to support her, but he needed her to come to them on her own terms.

Sara stood and he called out to her. "Tell Greg I'm sorry."

Turning, she offered a small smile. "I will." Sara turned back to the door, took the handle, but did not leave his office. "I'd like to spend the night at your place," she told him, keeping her back to him.

Before he could reply, she was gone.

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Sara had forgotten that she and Greg had driven to the lab together, so she sat uncomfortably in Grissom's Lexus, trying her hardest not to feel trapped. She rubbed her shoulder unconsciously.

"How's your shoulder?"

It took a few seconds for his question to register. "I'm sorry, what?"

Grissom nervously rubbed his beard. "How's your shoulder?"

She glanced down, and only then realized that she was massaging it. Dropping her hand down into her lab she honestly replied. "It's still pretty sore, I think it helped that it was set so…quickly."

**Sara walked through her apartment door and dropped the keys on the counter. Flipping through the mail she discarded the junk mail and placed the rest next to the phone. She glared at the take-out menu she had ordered from before she "left" work. She promised herself she wouldn't fall back into the habit of take-out and spending the weekend at home alone with her science journals, but after getting nowhere with questioning Dr. Wilson, and being lectured by Grissom, all she wanted to do was sit and not think about how she had failed to bring justice to Jerrod and Marni. **

**There should have been something else she could have said to trap the doctor. Finding out his motive, and finding evidence to nail him would possibly save the lives of others. Time would tell. Regardless, he got away. **

**Sara took some 'comfort' in the idea that a man like Lee Wilson would not consider himself lucky for not being caught yet, and transform into a reformed individual. He would torture and murder again, and if anything, his crimes would escalate. The comfort came in the idea that he would be caught, and she would do whatever it took to be the one that caught him. **

**As she thought about Marni lying in the cell in pain and knowing her fiancé was dead in the next cell, anger and sadness welled up inside of her. She couldn't help but imagine what it was like for Marni to be violated so brutally. **

**The pictures were far too vivid, and she jumped when the doorbell rang. Peering through the eyehole, she studied the man on the other side. Still paranoid given the circumstances of the case, she had no intension of letting the deliveryman in her door. She made sure the chain was on and unlocked the deadbolt. Passing the cash through the cracked door she instructed him to, "Just leave it on the ground."**

**The man looked at her, but not with the confusion she expected. He seemed frightened. Before she knew it, he was lying unconscious on the ground while Dr. Wilson was throwing his shoulder into the door. Sara felt the chain hit just above her eye as it broke due to the force. The door shortly followed, smacking her in the forehead, and sending her flying to the ground. **

**Unable to react, she heard the shuffle of feet, a door slam shut, and the deadbolt echo with a deafeningly finality in her ears. **

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	7. Chapter seven

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter seven**

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_**A house is not a home.  
- Polly Adler –**_

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Grissom stepped back to allow Sara entrance to his townhouse with no small level of trepidation. Sara allowed him the act of inadvertent chivalry without comment, eyes instantly taking in her surroundings, contrasting the interior to dim recollections long undisturbed in her memory.

His townhouse was a dull, vague watercolour of his personality. The walls were plain white cinderblock, closing around a vast kitchen and living area. A towering pillar stood as the centrepiece of the room, branching off into an impressive breakfast bar.

The shades were partially drawn, casting the room in a dim light that only allowed elusive cracks of evening sunshine to filter through.

Minute quirks of his personality occasionally showed; in the glass display cases of carefully arranged butterflies, or the infinite array of literature scattered in an ordered kind of confusion on the bookshelves.

For the most part, it felt like a momentary haven, a place in the guise of a home. His office in the lab was a more apt tribute to his character.

Sara strode uncertainly inside, simultaneously drawing comfort and dismay from the sudden intimacy of the moment.

Grissom seemed oblivious to it, and immediately took to the breakfast bar; only pausing to ask her what would be suitable substitutes for meat in her meal. She took a seat at the counter, simply watching him work, admiring the deft movement of his hands and the strong broad line of his shoulders as he turned his back to face her.

It took her several moments to realise she hadn't thought of the incident since arriving in his house. Despite its lifeless appearance, she felt more comfortable there than in her own apartment.

_Is it the place,_ she contemplated, _or the company?_

**Sara scrambled backwards on her heels, eyes darting frantically around her apartment as she searched for some form of weapon. Dr. Wilson stalked towards her with an inordinate amount of calmness, drawing a slim, and sinister injection needle from within the folds of his jacket.**

**Sara swallowed, gazing behind him. Her first concern was the deliveryman—she had no idea what the doctor did to him. To the left of his unconscious form she spotted her cellphone on the counter. **

**"Come now, Sara", he said easily. "This will only hurt a second".**

**Sara bumped into the wall, managing to climb swiftly to her feet. She ran directly for the space behind him, diving towards her cellphone, or better yet the door, but he was too fast and moved with surprising fluency. She realised she had done what self-defence trainers warned against most of all; she had underestimated his lithe form, and now she was going to pay for it. **

**He threw her back, and her legs connected with the base of her glass coffee table. She flew back, smashing into it and sending thousands of glass fragments scattering like intricate jigsaw pieces all over the floor. **

**Her back throbbed from the force of her fall, and her fingers blindly grappled over the jagged edges of glass. **

**"I'm warning you, stay away from me!" she hissed fiercely. **

**Dr. Wilson was unamused. "Sara, my dear, you're making this far more difficult than it has to be".**

**He moved forward with the kind of swiftness a panther would envy, and had her pinned with her arm twisted painfully behind her back before she could move. Sara continued to struggle until he pulled back violently on her arm. "Stop!"**

**The pain halted all further movement. She felt a shard of glass under her free hand, and she gripped it subtly; his body weight now had her completely pinned and all she could do was wait for a moment to strike. Testing the doctor's hold, she twisted slightly, bringing her more pain.**

**"It's amazing isn't it Sara? The pain humans are willing to tolerate to avoid more pain. For you though, I bet you're willing to endure pain long enough to inflict it upon the person causing it."**

**His weight shifted and she seized her opportunity. **

**She swung around, crying out at the sudden agony as it wrenched her arm, and stabbed him in the leg. Dr. Wilson hissed in pain and fury, yanking her shoulder back with unrestrained anger. The pain was so spontaneous and overwhelming; Sara saw black dots dancing in front of her eyes. **

**Then he removed the needle, and jabbed it in her upper arm. And though she struggled to fight against it, she felt herself rapidly sliding into the soft, hazy realm of unconsciousness.**

**000000000000**

Grissom allowed himself the simple, fleeting pleasure of studying Sara as she perched silently on the edge of his breakfast bar, allowing himself to drink in her subtle beauty, and admit that the only time he felt entirely reassured was when she was with him, because he knew that she was safe.

He knew now, that it was an anxiety that was never going to fade. He was as constantly aware of her presence as he had once been to avoid it, and he realised that there was a simultaneous burden and joy that came with loving someone like he loved her.

It was strangely liberating to be able to admit the truth to himself like that. Admitting it to Sara was… a daunting thought. While their shared trauma had allowed them to develop some sort of intrinsic bond such as they had never had before, it had also served to seriously sever their ability to communicate with one another, if that was something they had ever had to begin with.

They were together, but they were separated. Isolated in their own private worlds of pain; dealing with their experiences in their own individual ways. Unable to share what they were truly feeling or acknowledge the depth of their relationship, because Dr. Wilson had managed to twist it into their worst nightmare.

The bruises marring her pretty features had almost faded into non-existence, and for a moment he managed to convince himself this was the old, relentlessly flirty and self-confident Sara, in his house watching him cook dinner because he had finally given in to his feelings for her and had asked her on a date. He had never wanted such an extreme event to be the catalyst for their relationship.

He could finally admit he cared for her-- and everything had changed. He found himself longing for the days when getting around Ecklie and worrying about their boss/subordinate relationship were their only barriers.

_I didn't know how lucky I was._

He cleared his throat when he realised how caught up in his thoughts he had become and, gestured down at the oven as he closed the tray. "This might take a while. Do you want to… start the movie?"

Sara studied him, cocoa-coloured eyes intense and unreadable. As she always was these days, she was just within his reach, yet limitlessly unattainable. He knew he had never been upfront with her about his own feelings, and this almost felt like karmic retribution. He wondered if she had often felt this same frustration.

At last, she nodded, rising from her stool. "Sure".

They settled on the sofa, she on the edge, him partially placing himself in the middle. Crowding her was the last thing he wanted to do. They had chosen an old film, Hitchcock's _Spellbound_, one that appealed to their higher intellects but that allowed them to relax as well. He was concerned at first that the plot would be too much for her, but Sara insisted that any movie with Gregory Peck and Ingrid Bergman was all right with her.

Grissom found himself, oddly, uninterested in the plot. Sara's mere presence beside him was distraction enough, and he sighed, keeping one eye fixed on the clock, and the other half-heartedly on the television screen as he waited for their dinner.

**Sara woke with a sluggish, unusual amount of difficulty, feeling a throbbing in her skull as she slowly worked her eyes open. Her surroundings were impossibly dark, and possessed a distinct, overpowering stench that immediately reminded her of death.**

**She swallowed, lifting her head when she realised the pain had something to do with the stone wall behind her. Her body was positioned awkwardly, with her head lolling between her shoulder and the wall, and as she shifted, something rattled against her arm. **

**She glanced down, realising her wrist was encased in a heavy metal cuff, the type attached to a long, medieval chain. **

**Her mouth went dry as she contemplated her predicament, and she felt a burst of true, unadulterated fear. She could barely make out her pale, silvery flesh in the darkness, and yet she knew with a sudden, startling alacrity where she was. **

**The prison cells in the warehouse. The crime scene. **

**The torture chamber. **

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**A sliver of light shone into the cell as the towering figure of Lee Wilson strode in, with practised cunning and patience, looming over her. She stared back up at him, finding it bitterly ironic that all of her self-defence training had ultimately amounted to squat. **

**The cell door remained open behind him, and he stepped within mere inches of her, possessing an obnoxious confidence that the chains would restrain her adequately. She shifted in place, finding it difficult to move as strong pain suddenly laced through her shoulder, and thought that that was probably a fair deduction. **

**"Hello, Sara", he said calmly. "I hope you're well rested".**

**She glared at him in disbelief, mildly assured by the mantra of logic she kept going through her head. It was her only weapon against him, and she chose to utilise it fiercely. "You're insane", she spat with misplaced confidence. "You really think someone won't find me? We're at the _crime scene_. They're going to notice I'm missing from work". **

**Dr. Wilson smiled with infinite patience and charm. "They would", he agreed solicitously. "Except as of ten minutes ago, Sara is on medical leave for two days due to the recommendations of her doctor. Her supervisor understands completely, and wishes her a speedy recovery".**

**Sara blinked, infused with newfound uncertainty. Grissom bought that? She was hot on a case, and suddenly she took some sick days?**

**Even as she considered it, a new, unwelcome thought invaded her misgivings. Last year, it might have seemed unfeasible. Unfortunately, this year, she was making a conscious, noticeable effort not to spend all of her waking hours at the lab.**

**She stared at the doctor in growing horror, reassuring herself with one consistent thought. Grissom would know her better than that. He would. He had to. **

**000000000**

Grissom realised he had dozed lightly when Sara touched him softly on the arm. "Hey. Dinner's gonna burn in a minute".

He blinked, meeting her gaze briefly, allowing himself to momentarily become caught up in the deep, sensuous brown of her eyes. They held a sweet innocence nothing could ever tarnish for him, and he basked in their glow.

He realised after a while that he had still not reacted to her statement, and he rose quickly from the sofa, crossing to the kitchen alcove. Sara paused the movie, and it was a while before he realised her eyes were on him. He twisted around, placing the steaming oven tray down and meeting her gaze questioningly.

"What?"

She shrugged, eyes darting away now she herself had been caught staring, scanning over the room to hide her awkwardness. "This is kind of weird, isn't it? I mean… seeing each other in a non-work environment?"

He shrugged, concentrating with unnecessary intensity as he dished the vegetarian loaf onto two plates. "Well, it's not something we've ever really… done before".

She nodded, frowning slightly as she drew circles with her index finger on his sofa. "Right." She wavered as she considered something thoughtfully. "Can I ask you a question?" she decided, at last.

Grissom hesitated, but slowly nodded his head. "Of course."

"Do you… Are you doing this because you're worried about me… or because you need me to be here?"

Grissom frowned, lowering the forgotten meal onto the counter. "Sara, I…"

She rose to her feet, circling the sofa until she was standing on the other side of the counter. Her expression was strangely stern and she folded her arms in a defensive gesture. "Because if you're just worried about me… I don't need you to… I have Greg for that, and Nick, and the others. And they don't understand what happened like you do".

Grissom swallowed, feeling uncharacteristically exposed, and had difficulty formulating his sentence. Some things would never change. He was still as ineloquent around her as he had ever been. "Sara, I… I feel like I… I worry when you're not around. I worry about you constantly. But that's not the reason I asked you here."

She surveyed him cautiously, and after a while seemed content with his response.

They ate their dinner in companionable silence, and returned to the sofa and their half-finished film.

The earlier awkwardness between them had vanished somewhat. Grissom had his eyes focused on the screen when he felt warmth on his shoulder, and glanced down to realise Sara had leant her head against him.

He didn't tense or move away, and was amazed by the comfort he drew from their simple closeness. After a moment, he brushed his thumb delicately over her forehead, wiping away a wayward strand of hair, relishing the sensation of her soft, creamy skin. He realised she felt comforted enough herself to close her eyes and it imbued him with newfound hope. She trusted him.

It was hardly the most intimate position he had ever been in with a woman, and yet with Sara, it felt different. With Sara, it felt like home.

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	8. Chapter eight

**A/N:** I know some have expressed their dislike over the bolding being the signal for flashbacks. We sincerely apologize, we had a different system set up when we started writing, but fanfiction did not like our formatting. We chose to reserve italics of thoughts and bolding for flashbacks to distinguish the difference between the two.

**Warning:** This chapter contains descriptions of graphic torture scenes.

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**_Love is a mutual self-giving that ends in self-recovery._****_  
_****_Fulton J. Sheen_**

_**0000000**_

**Grissom tried to free himself from his chains. **

**Sara was screaming. He needed to help her.**

**Twisting his wrist, he could feel the skin breaking as the metal cut into him. He was oblivious to his own pain, as Sara's screams were increasing with intensity.**

**He watched in horror as the man brought the belt down again. The resounding CRACK echoed throughout the empty warehouse.**

Grissom jumped as he suddenly woke up. His dreams had been all too vivid, to the point that he felt he relived their experience every night since they were rescued.

He rubbed his eyes as he struggled to push the scene from his head.

As he began to orient himself to his surroundings, he became aware of the weight still pressed against his side. Looking down, he was relieved that he hadn't woken Sara.

Studying her face, he was still amazed at what this petite brunette was able and willing to endure for him. He had no idea what he had said or done to deserve her, and now she opened herself up again by staying with him and allowing him to be near her. He understood that she felt guilty, hell, that was exactly what he felt when he looked into her eyes, and saw the pain carefully contained within them.

His session with Dr Muller was never intended for his recovery. He needed to help Sara, but had no way to do so.

He brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face and remembered the doctor's words. Sara was suffering from PTSD, and was experiencing the symptoms more intensely because of her past. Thinking of the possibilities of her past brought tears to his eyes. Her life had been marred with pain, and abuse at the hands of those she loved. He was now equally guilty of that crime in her life. In more ways then one.

**Nick walked into Grissom's office; coffee in one hand, and wiping the sleep out of his eyes with the other.**

**Grissom looked up in confusion, "Nick, why are you here? You went home almost three hours ago."**

"**Two and half," he corrected. "Ecklie didn't tell you?" Nick was actually more surprised that Sara hadn't talked to Gil already.**

"**Tell me what?" His full attention was suddenly riveted on the younger man standing in his doorway.**

"**Sara's out sick for a few days. I guess the doctor called here himself. Ya know, she must be pretty sick to go to the doctor in the first place. I mean, remember last year when she had…"**

**Nick rambled on as Grissom processed the facts. Sara. Sick. Doctor called. Out for a few days. She looked fine when she left, aside from the extreme lack of sleep, and being far too involved in her latest case. Perhaps her current assignment had hit too close to home for her. Knowing why she took certain cases so personally only helped him to worry more about her.**

**He suddenly realized Nick was still talking, "…so yeah, Ecklie called me in. Said Sara was working on a high profile case with Greg."**

"**He's in trace. He'll get you up to speed." Nick turned to leave.**

"**Nick," his concern got the better of him. "Did Ecklie say what was wrong with her?"**

**He shook his head. "No, you know him-- he wasn't exactly cordial."**

**Grissom stared at his phone. His urge to call her was battling with his ignorance over what to say to her. If she was as sick as it sounded, and decided to take care of herself for once, he didn't want to make her feel guilty. Their personal relationship had been rocky at best, and he worried that any phone call would be taken as Supervisor Grissom wondering when she would be back to work.**

**His concern won out, and against his better judgment he picked up the phone, and dialed the familiar number. **

**Her answering machine picked up on the third ring, and he hung up the phone. _She's sick and she's taking care of herself_, he told himself.**

Not for the first time, Grissom kicked himself for not trying harder to get a hold of her, or trying to find out the name of the doctor. He might have gone to her apartment sooner, and he would have had longer to put the pieces together.

He could have spared her a lot of pain.

"Story of my life," he whispered out loud.

He looked down at her again, and decided that she looked uncomfortable. He stood and picked her up in one fluid motion. Her face grimaced slightly, but she didn't wake. He shifted her and headed toward his bedroom.

Wishing he had thought through things before he picked her up, he tried to pull the blankets down without disturbing her. After some fancy moves, he had her in his bed, and tucked the blankets warmly around her.

He was painfully aware of every one of her injuries, and assumed her back was really the only position she was able to sleep in. He was amazed that she had slept through the movement at all.

Grissom opened the closet and pulled out some extra bedding, and looked down the hallway at the couch they were just sleeping on. He didn't want to be out of earshot from her, and opted for the floor next to the bed.

Once he settled, his mind wandered back to the warehouse. Sara had refused to talk to anyone about her ordeal, but as a member of law enforcement he knew she had been required to give a statement. Brass was kind enough to Grissom to look the other way, literally, when he took the tapes to listen to.

What he heard was heartbreaking.

**Sweat was beginning to form on her forehead. The cell was stuffy, but the pain in her shoulder was the cause. She was unable to move as Wilson approached her.**

"**I was forced to pull that shoulder out of joint, we should set it," he explained with each step.**

"**Stay away from me," she commanded, with a confidence she didn't feel.**

"**Oh, Sara, you're going to need to trust me. This is going to feel so much better once it's set." He grabbed her wrist, and stroked it lightly.**

**Sara closed her eyes, and whispered one last plea. "Please don't touch me."**

**He ignored her. "I need you to help me out here. We need some traction."**

**If she didn't know that her shoulder would in fact feel better once the joint was placed back in its socket, she would have told him to go to hell. Instead, she lay down on her side, and allowed him to lift her injured arm in the air. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.**

**Wilson stood slightly, and placed his foot on her side just under her armpit. "Brace yourself, this is going to hurt."**

**Before she could respond, the pain in her shoulder became a searing hot liquid that seemed to flow from her arm to her neck. Spots danced before her eyes, but she refused to let herself slip into the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness. **

**Coolness replaced the warmth of the doctor's hand around her wrist, and she realized he had chained that arm now as well.**

"**Sara!" His voice rose, making her jump, and she finally realized he had been speaking to her. **

**Her eyes tried to focus on the maniac standing in front of her.**

"**The next few days are going to be the hardest on both of us," he began to explain, toying with a small black box in his hand. "It's funny that it has to be that way, because I only have one question I need answered."**

"**I like cheese pizzas," she answered sarcastically.**

**He chuckled. "See, it's that attitude that is going to make this so difficult." **

**Glaring at him, he knelt down to be eye level with her. "Who do you love?"**

**Sara was taken aback by his question. Up until that point she had been so caught up in her situation, she hadn't considered the case and why Marni and Jerrod were tortured.**

"**Go to hell," she spoke with defiance.**

"**Hmm, no Sara, hell is where you're going to be until you answer me." He fumbled with the box.**

**Suddenly, a burst of electricity coursed through the chains and enveloped her entire body. She was unable to hold back her screams.**

Grissom's thoughts were interrupted by Sara's whimpers. He was instantly at her side trying to comfort her. "Sara, you're safe. It's Gil, I'm right here."

Her eyes squeezed tighter. "No, you shouldn't be here. I didn't tell him. Why are you here?"

She was mumbling, and he had no idea if she was awake or dreaming. "Sara it's okay, it's over." He lightly touched her hand.

Her eyes shot open and she frantically tried to back away from him.

"Easy, take it easy Sara." He held his hand out to her, but didn't move, not wanting to upset her further.

Recognition finally appeared in her eyes, followed by tears that she didn't even try to hide. "I never told him, Grissom, I promise, I didn't say anything."

He nodded, and moved closer to her, "I know, it's okay now."

"No Gri—no, it'll never be ok."

His eyes narrowed as he picked up on her inability to say his name, along with the utter defeat he heard in her voice. "Come here." It was a question, just as much as it was plea. He needed to hold her.

Much to his surprise, she leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms gently around her.

"I wouldn't even let my mind think of your name for fear of saying it in a haze of pain," she confessed.

"It's not your fault, none of this is your fault," he encouraged.

"He kept shocking me, I don't even know how long," her voice faltered.

"Two days," he answered simply.

**Sara's body quivered with residual pain. Her mind was foggy, and the only thing she could remember was what pain felt like. Her wrists stung, and she assumed they were covered with second-degree burns. Her main concern was nerve damage due to the prolonged exposure to Dr. Wilson's shock treatment.**

**The cell clanged, announcing his arrival. Sara refused to react.**

"**Sara." His tone was even, but she was learning that rage bubbled beneath his cool exterior.**

"**Who's Grissom?" he asked, sitting beside her.**

**Panic welled up within her. How did he know? Quickly, she composed herself; she had no idea what he knew, and it would be easy to betray him with just her body language. "My boss." She had no idea where her composure came from. "I thought you said you talked to him."**

"**The man who came into the interrogation room?" **

**No response.**

"**Well, he's called you three times today. I think he's worried about you." He was fishing and she knew it.**

"**I'm supposed to return to work soon, right? I was working on a huge case." She paused, hoping he was buying her nonchalant attitude. "Thanks to you."**

**He nodded thoughtfully. "Let's call him."**

**Confused, she quickly tried to formulate a way to tell Grissom where she was.**

**Wilson held up the black box she had grown to fear. "I've scripted your conversation for you, and if you slip up, I'll merely move you, and then punish you severely."**

**Sara knew her fear was evident in her eyes. He helped her sit, and placed a pad of paper in her hands. She watched as he dialed the number on her cell and pushed the speaker button. "If you even move during this conversation, you'll regret it."**

"**Grissom," the voice echoed in her prison cell, and she wanted to cry.**

"**Griss, it's Sara." She followed the text before her.**

"**Sara, how are you? I've been trying to get a hold of you." He sounded like he was edge.**

**"I turned my phone off." She was hoping that something in her voice would give away her situation, but the script was a series of short responses that the doctor would point to, and weren't long enough to betray her fear.**

"**Still sick?"**

**_He's definitely worried_, she thought. "Yes, very sick. I'm taking the rest of the week off."**

"**Anything I can do? Can I bring you anything-- soup, sprite, crackers?" **

"**No, I'm—" Sara was cut off as her captor muted the phone, and quickly activated the electrodes. She had no warning, and could feel the nauseousness begin. As she vomited he hit the mute button again, so Grissom could hear her getting sick. He then pointed to a line of writing. "I'm sorry, I can't keep anything down."**

"**God, Sara, do you need to go back to the doctor? I'll pick you up," he offered.**

"**No, he's called to check up on me." She glared at the man in front of her. "I just need the rest of the week."**

"**Okay, but don't hesitate to call." He sounded like he wanted to say more.**

"**Thanks, I need to go back to bed."**

**Before she heard an answer, the phone was closed. "Nice job, Sara." He studied her. "Grissom." He seemed to be testing the word. "He seems to care about you." **

**She closed her eyes. "He's a good boss; he cares about all his employees. Especially the ones that vomit mid-conversation with him," she added with distain.**

"**I needed it to be believable." He stood and leaned against the cell wall. "So, we have four more days…who do you love?"**

Grissom rocked her, letting her cry in his arms. She had suppressed the pain and fear for so long, but Grissom knew her recovery had finally started.

00000000000


	9. Chapter nine

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter nine**

_**00000000**_

_**Guilt is the source of sorrows; the avenging fiend that follows us behind with whips and stings.  
--Nicholas Rowe**_

_**00000000**_

Sara's leaden feet carried her into work that night. It was becoming marginally easier for her to return and meld into her previous routine. She could pretend, at least for a few hours, that this was her old life, and she was only in the lab because Grissom had restricted her there for some minor slip-up like overtime.

She had spent at least a great portion of the hours before shift with Grissom in his townhouse, and allowing herself to fall into his embrace had felt like emotional catharsis. Sara felt… better. At least like she was handing things.

She had yet to encounter Ecklie, but she had no doubt the confrontation was unavoidable. Which was why she was unable to exhibit surprise when she rounded the corridor from within the locker room, and realised an unhappy looking Grissom stood waiting for her alongside the smarmy assistant director.

"Sara", Ecklie said, with such a false amount of sugary cheerfulness she was certain he had been previously threatened by some higher ups to ensure her recovery. "How are you holding up?"

Sara eyed him warily for a moment, exchanging a brief, bemused glance with her supervisor. "Fine, thank you".

"Good, good. I was wondering if the three of us might have a little chat for a moment."

'_Like it was open for discussion'_. She could already see the overconfident determination in his oily features. Sighing, she nodded her head, and mutely followed him down the hall to his office.

Ecklie closed the door behind them with overstated gravity, taking a seat behind his massive desk. The sympathy he projected was so blatantly false Sara could barely feign interest in what he was about to say. She had no doubt it was not something as innocuous as checking their progress. Ecklie would not call them to his office for a simple courtesy.

"I've been told you aren't attending meetings with the department psychologist, Sara", he began. '_Diving straight in, then.'_

Sara shifted in her seat, folding her arms defiantly. "No. I'm not".

He was irritated by her unresponsiveness, and folded his hands on his desk. "Is there a reason for that?"

"I wouldn't feel comfortable with it".

'_Like he can understand',_ Sara thought ruefully._ 'He wouldn't even try'._

Ecklie merely blinked at her. "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, Sara, I really am. However the director feels… that we're risking your own health as well as the health of others by allowing you back into the field before you have spoken to a specialist."

Sara stared at him. She couldn't believe this. "I'm not dangerous, Ecklie", she snapped.

He frowned. "I wasn't implying that. Look, Sara… we all understand how difficult this must be for you. Grissom himself is talking to a well-respected professional. She made a suggestion that I'm not going to oppose. She offered the option of the two of you attending her sessions together… if it helps Sara's recovery".

Sara frowned. She glanced nervously at Grissom, who looked as surprised as she did by this statement… but not as reluctant as she felt herself to be. Talking to him alone was different. Sharing their experience with another psychologist… ironic didn't even begin to describe it.

"I don't know if I can… do that".

Ecklie stared at her. "Perhaps I'm not making myself clear here, Sara. If you don't attend counselling, you are not allowed back into the field. Ever."

**Grissom glanced up as he heard movement in the doorway, and nodded as Brass made his way into his office. His eyes trailed up to the overhead clock, noting it was technically the end of shift. "Jim. What brings you here?"**

**Brass shrugged, idly slumping into the opposite chair. "Nothing, really. Just checking in".**

**Grissom lowered his pen, eyeing the other man doubtfully. Brass sighed, sensing Gil saw straight through him. "Okay, you got me. I'm worried about our little Ms. Sidle".**

**Grissom slanted an eyebrow, scrawling his signature absently over several equipment requests. "She's ill, and taking a few sick days. She should be back soon".**

**Brass remained tensely in his seat, expression uneasy. "Yeah, that's what I'm here for. Look, Gil… this case has been pretty heavy the last few days. We had a suspect, we just couldn't hold him. Have you ever known Sara to let go like this when a case is so hot? Hell, she'd come to work with pneumonia if she had her way."**

**Grissom hesitated, meeting the detective's sharp gaze. "I know, I've been… considering that myself. You know what happened last year, Jim. Sara's trying harder to keep normal hours, and avoid burning out. If she knows she's too invested in this… then maybe she's trying to take the healthier option".**

**Brass nodded, clearly unconvinced. "Right. Okay, yeah." He rose to his feet, boosting his bulky weight up by the armrests. "Just answer me this", he said, pausing on his way to the door. "Unless Sara had the willpower of an ox—which I think we both know, from personal experience, is doubtful—then why hasn't she called for any updates on the case?"**

**He shot Grissom a pointed glance, and departed his office. Grissom sat in his chair for two whole minutes before rising to his feet and loading his briefcase, starting quickly for the door. **

"I can't believe this".

Greg glanced up as Sara stalked into the breakroom, followed by a much more reserved Grissom.

He had a sneaking suspicion she had spent the night at their boss's townhouse, but he wasn't about to step on anybody's toes. If anyone could help her through this, Grissom could; which was why he was only mildly concerned by the venom in Sara's voice as she slumped into a conference chair across from him.

"Uh, what's up?" he asked, glancing between them uncertainly.

Sara shrugged. "Nothing. Ecklie's making me speak to the departmental psychologist".

Greg frowned. "Oh. Well…"

"Don't try telling her it might be a good thing", Grissom warned, touching Sara lightly on the shoulder as he passed her towards the coffee maker.

Greg slanted an eyebrow, incredibly intrigued by the sudden change in their dynamic. It took him a moment to realise that the room was no longer charged with tension, and they appeared comfortable in each other's presence. Something had happened. He didn't know what, but he thought it was more progress than a counsellor could ever hope to achieve.

Sara just shrugged, glancing down at the thin layer of condensation an empty mug of Greg's coffee had left on the table, tracing it with her thumb.

He cleared his throat, deciding to jump on in. "So, um, things go okay with you two? With, um, dinner and everything?"

Sara had explained to him he wouldn't be needed at her apartment that night, and then she had told him why. A few months ago, if someone had told him Grissom and Sara had had dinner; he would have died before he asked either of them about it. However, now, all of them were attempting to be more open and sociable with the pair. His concern for Sara dictated he ask, even if he didn't really want to hear the particulars.

Sara gave a small smile, looking infinitely sad, and yet brighter than he had seen her in days. Like there was hope blossoming on the horizon. "Yeah", she murmured enigmatically. "It went fine".

**Grissom paused in front of Sara's modest apartment, considering his next move. If Brass' concerns were misplaced, then Sara was going to want to know what he was doing here. Well, he had offered to bring her some soup. Of course, he had none on him, but he was genuinely concerned about her, and he was sure he could play that card.**

**His knuckles rapped lightly on the door, and he waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he knocked again, a little louder than before. The sound seemed to echo dully inside, filling him with an irrational sense of dread. **

**_She's probably asleep_, he assured himself. He glanced at the doors beside hers, dimly wondering if any of her neighbours had a spare key to her apartment. As an afterthought, he tried the doorknob, and was surprised when it twisted fluidly in his grasp. **

**Swallowing, he nudged the door open, allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the inner gloom. He took a step inside, and something crunched under his boot. He glanced down; heart jolting painfully when he realised a fragment of glass was crushed under his weight. **

**Slowly, his gaze made out the dim outlines of the rest of the apartment and he drew in a sharp breath when he realised the place was completely ransacked. **

**Furniture was overturned, books were scattered, and a thousand of impossibly small shards glass littered everywhere in sight. **

**A lump formed in his throat when he realised splattered over the glass were droplets of dark, rich red blood.**

**He stepped back into the hall, whipping out his cell phone with newfound urgency. "Brass; call in the team, _now_. All of them, I don't care! We have a situation. A new crime scene. At Sara's apartment".**

**0000000000**

**Her cell phone was shrill and loud in the resonant walls of her narrow cell, and Sara ground her teeth as Dr. Wilson glanced down at the lit display, mouth quirking up in amusement. **

**"That's the fifth time Gil Grissom has called now".**

**Her breathing was harsh and laboured, and she leaned her head back against the chilled brick wall, blotting out his eager curiosity with closed eyes. **

"**Tell me, Sara, does a normal boss care that much about his employees?"**

**Sara tasted the bitter tang of blood under her tongue, and spat out of the corner of her mouth, opening her eyes to stare over at him. **

**He leaned casually against the bars of the adjoining cell, enjoying her reaction immensely. She saw the niggling suspicion behind his intense dark eyes, and forced herself to look away from them. **

_**God, Grissom, stop calling me, please. **_

"**I have a question for you", he posed, stalking around her hunched form patiently. "If I called Grissom and told him what had happened to you, do you think he would come to your rescue? Do you think he would suffer to spare you?"**

"**Stop it!" she blurted out, wincing at the pain in her shoulders when she jolted forward in fear. "Please, don't bring him into this! I'll do anything, just don't hurt him. Please".**

**Wilson looked smugly satisfied. He absently fingered the black box in his hand. "Do you love him, Sara? Would you sacrifice your life for him?"**

**Tears sparked behind her eyes, and her nails dug painfully into her palms. "_Yes_! Okay, _yes_! I'm in love with him. I love him. Leave him alone! Just stop doing this!"**

**Wilson smiled thinly. "I can't do that, Sara."**

"Sara, I want to make it clear I'm not going to press anything with you. I want you to be able to share whatever you feel comfortable with".

Sara stared back at the doctor defiantly, crossing her legs at the knee. "Well, considering I'm not comfortable with this at all, it might be a short session".

Dr. Muller maintained an expression of extreme patience, and Sara wanted to hit her. Or better yet, leave.

Grissom remained silent in the seat beside her, and she wondered how he could possibly tolerate this. Of course, she often forgot how long she had been left alone with Dr. Wilson; to endure his constant sermons on love and his theories on pain. Theories… he was more than willing to share…

**"I don't understand… who could have done this", Catherine muttered, taking in the disordered state of Sara's apartment.**

**Nick swallowed grimly. "Try every suspect in her seven active cases, or hundreds of her solved ones".**

**Greg, crouched mutely by the counter, didn't say anything, features flushed with anxiety. The two exchanged a brief, worried glance and resumed their work.**

**By the doorway, Brass and Grissom stood in consultation. Warrick had returned to the lab with the blood and several other samples, in a hasty effort to get the results as quickly as possible. **

"**You couldn't have known, Gil", Brass said quietly. **

**Grissom shook his head, looking away from his friend's probing stare. Guilt ate away at his insides. "You did", he muttered bitterly. **

**Did he know Sara so little that he hadn't even been concerned enough to notice she was missing? Anything could have happened to her, and they could be too late because… because of him. **

"**I have to go", he said abruptly. He couldn't endure the commiserative looks any longer, or worse, the quiet accusation. **

**Brass stared after him in mute shock. "_What_? _Where_?"**

"**The lab", Grissom snapped. "I want those results".**

"**Mia would have paged if she had them already", Brass argued.**

**Grissom shook his head, blocking out the logic of the detective's argument. He didn't care. He had to get out of here. He had to think. **

**Who would have taken Sara? They had all discussed their suspicions, and though they weren't sure, he and Brass both agreed Dr. Wilson, the suspect in her most recent case was certainly viable. As were several others who would be intent on revenge. Their line of work was dangerous for provoking the wrath of wronged criminals. **

**Wilson. **

**The look the man gave him as he announced he was to be released from interrogation had stayed with him. As had Sara's intense need to solve the case. There was something off about it. Something, that made him steer left instead of right away from North Trop Boulevard, and head back towards the inactive crime scene. **

**The warehouse had been cleared, and the crime scene tape removed, so it took him several moments to recall the address. **

**He pulled up outside the building when he did, parking his Tahoe down the road. If Wilson had taken Sara, he needed to understand his crime. He needed to get into his mindset, and understand what motivated him, and where he may have taken her. If nothing else, it was a comfort mechanism. He knew the others weren't going to find anything useful until the DNA results came back and identified Sara's attacker. He didn't even want to consider the fact that it might only be her blood. **

**For once in his life, the evidence wasn't what drove him. **

**The door of the warehouse creaked slightly as he let himself inside, and he examined the vast interior. Sara and Greg had swept the building high and low, and he knew there were no evident signs left of the crime that had been committed there. **

**Slowly, he strode towards the narrow corridor, feet scuffling slightly on the dusty concrete. He turned a corner…**

…**And his heart stopped cold in his chest when he came face to face with the object of his troubled deliberations. **

"**Dr. Grissom", Wilson said calmly, tilting his head. "We've been expecting you".**

**00000000000**


	10. Chapter ten

**Warning:** This chapter contains **g**raphic tortue scenes.

**A Trial of the Heart Chapter ten**

_**0000000000**_

**_As I cry silent tears,  
_****_I realize,  
_****_I will never cover the wound of you,  
_****_With the band-aid of somebody new. _**

**_Until my heart heals,  
_****_I will leave it exposed for all to see,  
_****_No longer suffering alone,  
_****_in misery. _**

**_I will let the air we all share,  
_****_Cleanse and heal me,  
_****_As it passes from my mouth,  
_**_**Into your ears.**_

_**--Author Unknown**_

**000000000**

Dr. Muller looked at Sara, trying to determine from her body language if the slender brunette was uncomfortable or outright frightened. Sara for her part was staring intently at the arm of her chair, as she picked at an errant thread.

"Sara?" she started softly.

Grissom looked away from Sara for the first time since they sat down. He seemed to take a defensive posture, and eyed the older women in front of them. He looked back at Sara and placed his hand on hers, ceasing its rhythmic movement.

She tensed, and looked Grissom in the eyes. "I can't do this."

He squeezed her hand, and looked back at the psychiatrist. "Dr Muller, I question how therapeutic this is, considering the circumstances? Is there anything else you can recommend?"

"Dr. Grissom, Sara, I understand more than you think," she started patiently. "The first thing you both need to understand is that your experience with Dr. Wilson was not a therapy session. He was not looking out for your best interests, _but I am_."

**Sara was vaguely aware of movement around her. She tried to focus on her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was hearing a noise near the front of the warehouse, and then she was consumed with darkness. Her head was throbbing, and as she brought her hand up to massage the source of the pain, she became aware of two things—her temple was bleeding, and her hands were no longer bound by the chains.**

"**We don't need the chains anymore, Sara," he spoke softly.**

**Sara cringed, wondering how he could get inside her head like he did.**

"**I've acquired someone else to keep you chained to your cell."**

**Her brain was still foggy, but she picked up on the details of his sentence-- _someone._ She looked around frantically, heart dropping, and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears as she took in the sight before her.**

**Grissom was in the cell adjacent to hers; chained to the wall in the same position she had found Jerrod Clark. He was unconscious, but seemingly unharmed.**

**Sara started to hyperventilate, and tears finally streamed down her face, "Why? Why are you doing this?" she gasped out.**

**He kicked her squarely in the ribs, and she heard the distinctive sound of bones cracking. She curled up in a protective ball. "You can leave, Sara. Your chains are gone, and your cell door is open."**

**Her mind raced as she struggled to put the pieces together. Marni had been within arms reach of her freedom. All she had to do was take the key and unlock her bindings. Instead she chose to remain in her cell, and most likely watched her fiancé die.**

**She looked over at the still form of Gil Grissom, and saw the feared electrodes attached to his wrists. Looking away, she pressed her head against the ground in an attempt to find her center. "If I leave, he dies."**

**Sara heard the rustling of clothes and felt his breath near her ear. "You're amazingly intelligent, Sara. I don't even have to tell you the rules."**

**They both heard the form in the next cell groan, and Wilson smiled. "He's about to join us."**

Sara's eyes seemed clouded over as she stared unfocused over Grissom's shoulder. He still held her hand, but it was limp within his grasp. "Sara?" He shifted to kneel in front of her.

His movements revived her, as her hand shot back as if his touch burned her. She stood quickly and attempted to back away.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Her plea was pitiful, and he moved to approach her, but felt a hand on his arm.

Dr. Mullen was now standing, and walking purposefully toward the scared women. "Sara, tell me what you're feeling?" It sounded cliché even to her seasoned ears, but at this point in Sara's progression they needed to find the root of her fears.

Sara had backed herself against the wall, bumping into several framed certificates. She slid down the wall and curled up into a protective ball.

Grissom was torn; it hurt him to watch her revert back to the frightened women in the cell, but he needed to be with her every step of her recovery. "Doctor," he pleaded.

The older women held up her hand, but remained entirely focused on Sara. "Sara, what are you seeing?"

**Sara was too weak to move, and the coolness of the concrete floor felt comforting on her warm forehead. She knew Grissom could see her through the bars that separated them, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. **

"Sara."

She cringed instantly. If she survived, the doctor's voice was going to haunt her forever. She heard him step closer, and she could hear Grissom's screams. She tensed, causing her punished muscles to scream back.

"Give me your hand, Sara." His voice was so calming. So deceptive.

She knew if she did not obey, Grissom would suffer. Sara lifted her hand out, but refused to look; leaving her head pressed into the ground. He caressed her hand, and suddenly snapped her index finger. She moaned and drew it back quickly.

"Give me your hand, Sara." His voice never changed.

She whimpered, and could still hear Grissom screaming. Sara once again placed her hand in her tormentor's, and felt another sickening snap.

"**Do you see, Gil? It's amazing the pain she's willing to endure for you, isn't it? Look how willingly she gives me her hand back. Do you know why?" He patted Sara's hand and placed in on the ground.**

**Grissom was breathless, and was searching for words to keep the attention on him. His mind was reeling from just his imagination as to what she had been through in the last three days.**

"**Sara?" He stroked her hair. "Tell him why."**

"**You'll kill him," her muffled voice echoed through the cells.**

**Wilson shook his head, "No, no, that's not why. Tell him why." He looked up at Grissom; he wanted to see his reaction.**

"**Because I love him," she finally choked out with a sob.**

Sara hadn't moved from her fetal position, other than to bury her face in the carpeting.

Dr. Muller lightly stroked the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her.

She squeezed her eyes tight. "You'll kill him."

Grissom wanted to vomit. "Oh God." He moved forward and gently pushed the doctor out of the way. "She's reliving it."

Dr. Muller sat back on her heels, and watched their interaction.

Grissom gathered her up in his arms. She fought briefly, but went limp from exhaustion.

**Grissom was torn between his desire to kill the man hovering over Sara, and wanting to comfort her. He had never heard her say those words before; and he was furious that she was forced to reveal her true feelings under pain and duress. "Leave her alone," he growled dangerously.**

**Their tormentor glared at him. "This is not about you," he answered, low and dangerously.**

"**Turn over Sara," he instructed.**

**She didn't move.**

"**Turn over Sara," he commanded sternly.**

**Too afraid, she refused to comply, until she heard the whine of electricity followed by Grissom's sudden cry. _'That was my fault,' _she thought instantly, and immediately complied with his command, and once again the warehouse fell silent. Sara could hear Grissom's shuttered breath.**

**She felt vulnerable lying on her stomach, but she was willing to wait as long as she needed to make sure Grissom didn't suffer because of her. She turned her head to look in his direction, but Dr. Wilson blocked her view. **

"**Have you ever told him, Sara?" he asked, sounding so sincerely concerned.**

**He fingered the black box. "No," she finally answered.**

"**Love changes a person, Sara. Did you know that? Can you remember who you were before you loved him? When you look in the mirror now, who do you see?"**

"**Please, let him go," she begged. All she could think of was the burned corpse of Jerrod. **

"**Sara, he's key to this research," he explained calmly. "I need to know what you are willing to endure to spare him pain."**

**She glared at him, flashing her defiance. She never thought she would submit so willingly to a person, but in all her scenarios she never imagined that her submission held Gil's life in the balance. "We're research to you? That's how you justify this? That's how you justify Jerrod and Marni?"**

"**Tsk, tsk, Sara, Jerrod's death was Marni's responsibility," he answered and stood to fiddle with his belt buckle. As he loosed it, her greatest fear flashed through her mind. **

**Grissom once again came to life, struggling to free himself. "Leave her alone, you bastard!" **

**The belt zipped through his belt loops, and instantly came down on her back with force.**

Once again, Katherine Muller reached out for Grissom's arm. "Take her home, and bring her back in the morning. I'll report a successful meeting." She stood, and left her office to give them the privacy they needed.

Grissom looked down, and wiped the hair away from her eyes. She was sweating, and her breathing was ragged. He wanted to hurt someone, and first on his list was Ecklie. He failed to see how subjecting Sara to counseling was going to help her. She seemed to have taken several huge steps back.

She finally looked into his eyes, as if she were seeing him for the first time. "We were research."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued. "To him, we were research."

"Sara, it…he's insane. It wasn't research. He was twisted, and you got caught in the middle."

She fingered a button on his shirt, and inhaled his cologne, "You got caught in the middle." She shifted, and looked up at him again, "I need to say…I want you to…" She was struggling to form the words. She was facing a new fear.

"What is it, Sara?" He was concerned.

Her mouth opened. "I love you."

In his dreams, those were not the words he expected her to say in that moment. He said nothing, too stunned to respond.

"I needed to tell you…I needed to erase the first time I said those words." She was shaking, and he hugged her closer.

**Sara's back was on fire, and she could feel the blood trickling down her sides. She knew he was looking at her, but she felt ashamed. Being certain Grissom viewed her feelings as nothing more than a college crush, she was mortified.**

"**Sara," his voice was quiet so as to not draw attention from unwanted ears, but laced with concern. "Sara, please look at me. I need to know you're okay."**

**She finally turned her head. Tears had now dried, leaving a salty trail down her face. "I'm sorry." **

"**Sara, this is not your fault, do you hear me?" He couldn't decide if he was more concerned over her physical condition, or her mental condition, after being trapped with the psycho for three days.**

"**Grissom, no, that's not—Grissom, I'm sorry you're here. That is my fault." She was near tears again.**

"**Sara, no—"**

"**I love you," she interrupted. "That's why you're here. It's not a crush," she whispered. "I love you."**

**Before he could answer, their tormentor returned, whistling. He held a black bag under his arm. "We need to patch you up, Sara. We can't have you getting an infection."**

**He took a firm hold on her shirt and ripped it to expose her wounded back. **

**She jumped, and cringed at the pain that emanated along her back.**

"**I have nothing to numb you up, but we need to stitch these up," he explained as he prepared his supplies. "And not a word out of you, Gil," he warned, looking up briefly.**

**The first stitch was an unbelievable pain; blood streamed down her chin as she bit her lip to keep from crying out.**

"**I know you don't understand completely, Sara," he talked while he worked. "My books were all theory, and I had no viable way to prove them. I needed a way to test the character of true love. Humans in general are very selfish; the women I loved completely cheated on me. I would have done anything for her." Sara jumped as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Oops, sorry about that one." **

'**_He's insane, truly insane_,' she thought.**

"**So I started to contemplate what would have happened had I found someone who loved me just as fiercely. I thought Marni and Jerrod were the ones." He shook his head. "She could take it."**

**He paused, and looked up at Grissom, who seemed to be in physical pain over having to watch Sara suffer without saying a word to stop it.**

**Sara for her part was teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but the continual onslaught of agony sent shooting pain through her back.**

"**A deliveryman," he mumbled, seemingly off topic. Sara almost asked him what he was talking about. "She cheated on me with a common deliveryman, but you knew that, Sara. You knew him." **

**Sara instantly flashed to the scared face that had greeted her at her door a lifetime ago.**

"**I had to kill him. His body should be found soon, and will buy us some more time." He grew quiet after that, and continued to work.**

Sara finally calmed to the point that Grissom was leading her out of the office. They passed Dr. Muller on their way out. He nodded his gratitude and herded Sara toward the parking lot.

Once he had her in his car, he waited to start the engine. "I wanted to wait… there needed to be the right time to tell you," he stumbled over his words, looking straight ahead.

She understood what he was trying to say. "Don't say it if you don't mean it. It's not a band-aid."

He turned to face her. "It's not a band-aid-- a band-aid merely covers a wound. I love you, and that will heal us."

000000000


	11. Chapter eleven

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter eleven**

0000000

_**Unless you can find some sort of loyalty, you cannot find unity and peace in your active living.  
**__**-- Josiah Royce**_

0000000

Sara focused on the idle patter of rain on her window as she sat on the sofa, curled securely under a blanket and with the TV on mute, its flickering images casting a bluish glow in the dim interior of her living room. Sleep, as usual, eluded her. However for the first time in weeks, it wasn't the lingering visuals of nightmares or recurrent anxiety plaguing her thoughts, but their session with Dr. Muller that afternoon.

"_I love you, and that will heal us."_

Grissom… had said the words. For the first time her feelings weren't questionable, or unreturned. Their experience hadn't changed them for her, and somehow, they had managed to strengthen them in him.

She sighed, burying her face against the softness of her pillow and closing her eyes.

It wasn't long before she drifted into a state of blissful unconsciousness, the sound of Grissom's loving words lulling her into a comforting sleep.

**"JIM!"**

**Brass's head snapped up as Catherine skidded to an unceremonious stop beside his Denali, steadying herself on his passenger door. Brass frowned, leaning over and rolling down the side window.**

**"Cath, I'm on my way down to question a few leads now. I'm doing the best I can".**

**"No, you don't understand", she gasped, uncharacteristically flushed with panic.**

**Brass frowned. "What's going on?"**

**"It's Gil!" she hissed, bracing one hand on the door to catch her breath. "I tried his cell phone. He hasn't come back".**

**Brass stared at her. "What do you mean, he hasn't come back? He left three _hours_ ago! I thought he was at the lab".**

**"Well, so did I", she snapped impatiently. "But apparently he never arrived for the results. He never went back to the lab, Jim".**

**His brow furrowed, and felt his palms going clammy with sweat. He swiped them on his trousers, unease welling deep in his gut. "This isn't good, Catherine".**

**"You don't need to tell me", she muttered softly, and he could see frustrated tears welling behind her eyes.**

**Unprepared to deal with her sudden irrepressible emotions, he leant over and unlocked the door. "Come on. Get in. We'll check his place on the way. Maybe he went home for a breather".**

**She stared at him like he had lost his mind, and he grimly admitted it was a long shot. The likelihood of Grissom going home when Sara was missing and in danger was about as likely as the two of them actually admitting they had to sort out their relationship.**

**"Right", he muttered, as she climbed in and buckled up her seatbelt. "You're gonna have to help me out here because I'm drawing a blank. Presuming whatever nut got Sara hasn't got Grissom… where the hell would he go?"**

Sara snapped awake when a steady, rhythmic knock sounded at her door.

She swallowed, feeling an irrational surge of anxiety as she gazed at it uneasily. Slowly, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, crossing the carpet. She peered through the peephole, fingering the chain lock reassuringly.

She felt a small, uncertain smile tug at her lips at the face that met her on the other side, and unlocked the door.

"Hi", she said softly.

Grissom offered a tentative smile in return, and she wondered when they had turned into awkward teenagers. His thoughts must have run on a similar tangent to her own, and he snapped out of his awkward pose, jerking abruptly forward into the room.

"How do you feel about road trips?"

She blinked, stepping back to close the door behind him as she took in this unprecedented question. "Um… good road trip songs?"

He shot her a brief scowl, and she felt a smile tug at her lips when she realised how the ease had returned between them. His gaze scanned her living room, and she stepped closer to him, tilting a tentative eyebrow. "What's going on, Grissom?"

"We're getting out of Vegas", he announced unequivocally. "Unless you have any objections, right now".

Sara stared at him, and he heaved a deep sigh. "Really. I already cleared it with Ecklie. In fact, he practically pushed me to the door."

"This was your idea?" she asked slowly, doubtfully.

Grissom shrugged, an uncharacteristic gesture for him. "Well, no. I must admit Dr. Muller had a hand in that. She thinks the space might help a little".

Sara frowned. "How is the lab going to manage without half of the nightshift?"

Grissom's eyes were narrowed and strangely determined. "You know, I really don't care. I'm sure they'll work it out". She continued to stare at him, mouth slightly ajar, utterly in awe of the abrupt shift in his priorities.

"So", he said, oblivious to her astonishment clasping his hands together. "Where do you keep your suitcase?"

00000000

**"David Trenton", Nick announced, staring down at the crumpled deliveryman in deep thought. "Delivery guy for Xing Zu's Chinese Take-Out. Who wants to bet this is the guy who let Sara's attacker into her apartment?" They had slowly pieced together Sara's last moments before she was taken, and verified she had ordered take-out from her cell, and confirmed that it arrived by the remnants of the order on the wall just outside her door.**

**Beside him, Greg shifted uneasily, fingering his forceps in one hand. He realised his hands were shaking slightly, out of his reluctant to collect any evidence. He felt suddenly utterly unexperienced. Any simple, minor mistake and the identity of Sara's attacker was lost. _Sara_ was lost. Sara and Grissom were _both_ lost.**

**Nick paused in his examination, eyeing his friend with growing commiseration. "Hey, you okay, man?"**

**Greg swallowed, stepping away slowly. The body had been dumped in the alley behind Sara's apartment complex, propped in an unnatural position against a hefty dumpster, concealed by several mounds of hastily strewn garbage. Whoever had dumped him had not gone to much effort to ensure he remained hidden.**

**'_Probably because they had a hostage with them'_, Greg thought, stomach rolling. _'Because they had Sara with them.'_**

**"I can't, um… I think I'm going to go back to the lab and help Mia… with those samples", he announced unsteadily. "I think I might be um, needed there more."**

**Nick nodded slowly, an unusual amount of understanding filtering behind his brown eyes.**

**"Sure, Greggo. I get it, man. Go do what you can, okay?"**

**Greg nodded, lowering the forceps to his kit and closing it with a snap. He started to retreat, but paused when Nick's voice carried over to him.**

**"Hey, Greg", he called seriously. "We're going to find them. Both of them".**

**Greg nodded, managing a weak smile. He had to make himself believe Nick's words. The alterative was just too horrible to consider.**

**0000000**

**Catherine strode into the PD lobby, unconsciously wringing her hands together in front of her. Black rings circled her eyes as she gazed into the glass walls on her way to the interrogation rooms, and her normally bouncy blonde hair hung slack and limp around her wan features. **

**She drew in a shuddering breath** **spotting a grim Jim Brass waiting for her at the end of the corridor. Dealing with the loss of Sara had been a shock enough for the now disjointed graveyard shift.**

**Her feelings towards the younger brunette were conflicted. She had never liked another experienced, capable female CSI coming into her team, and she had certainly never approved of the hold she seemed to have over Grissom, or the unnamed history they shared. On the other hand, she knew how much her friend cared for her, even if he would never admit it, and God knew he needed a steady woman in his life. Sara had proven she was a professional and she had a strong moral backbone that Catherine had to admire, if not envy a little. Yet the thought that Grissom had gone out on some misplaced kamikaze rescue mission and wound up abducted himself, or worse… was just too much for her to deal with. **

**He was her best friend, the one person who managed to stand by her all her life and help her become the person she was today, instead of shedding her clothes for a few bucks, and losing her self-respect in the prospect. She owed Gil a lot. She had never really told him that. It was nearly unbearable when she realised she might never be able to. **

"**Who's in there?" she asked Brass, not bothering with pleasantries. They had seen each other all too much in the last twenty-four hours. **

"**Melissa Gordon", he said evenly. **

**Catherine glared at him impatiently. **

"**David Trenton's fiancé", he added. **

**She scowled with immense irritation. "You're still not dazzling me, Jim".**

**Brass sighed deeply. "Okay. How about this, then? She's Dr. Lee Wilson's ex wife".**

**Catherine's mouth fell open. "Lee Wilson? From Sara's high profile?"**

**Brass tapped his nose grimly. "One and the same".**

"**There is… no way this is a coincidence."**

"**Just what I was thinking. Care to join me?"**

Sara shifted, squinting as her eyes flickered open, and she realised she had dozed against the passenger door.

The steady hum of the engine was the only other sound, and she straightened her head, realising the bright, mingled hue of sunset had begun to haze over the distant horizon.

She glanced down, fingering the soft fabric of Grissom's jacket, which she had somehow begun using as a pillow. She cleared her throat, straightening in her seat, glancing at Grissom thoughtfully.

"Sorry I fell asleep. I guess I must be catching up on all the hours I missed".

Grissom glanced at her, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. "You haven't been having nightmares?"

She shrugged, stretching slightly. "No. They… um, stopped."

He didn't need to ask when that had happened, and she was glad she didn't have to tell him. The sense of comfort in the vehicle was enough for her. She wasn't up for analysing it at that moment. They knew they loved each other, and right now, that was all they needed.

She gazed out at the looming highway, stretching on into oblivion. "Hey, Grissom", she asked, folding the creases out of his jacket. "Where are we going, exactly?"

Grissom shrugged, looking completely unconcerned. "I don't know. I thought we'd just find out when we get there".

She titled an eyebrow, still taken aback by his apparent carelessness. "This spontaneity is refreshing, Griss", she teased, feeling an unintentional smile tug at her lips. "Where did my boss go?"

Grissom glanced at her, smiling. It really did take several years off his face. She basked in the unfamiliar gesture, realising it had been several hours since she had even thought of Lee Wilson.

"He's on vacation with a very beautiful woman", he replied naturally. "And at least for the moment, he isn't her boss".

**"Greg called", Warrick said, clasping his cell phone closed and turning to Nick's expectant face. "The blood is a match to Lee Wilson."**

**Nick felt a small, weak smile pull at his lips. "She fought back", he murmured proudly. "Good girl".**

**Warrick nodded in silent agreement, and they both unconsciously scanned Sara's living room. "Should be enough for a warrant", he said seriously.**

**Nick followed him into the hall, moving with deliberate quickness towards the elevator.**

**"Have Catherine and Brass finished questioning the ex yet?"**

**Warrick nodded. "Yeah. Apparently Wilson didn't take the break-up too well. I'm guessing Trenton's death was a convenient way to kill two birds with one stone. Get Sara to open the door, and get rid of the competition".**

**"The competition was over", Nick grunted, pressing the down button on the wall.**

**Warrick shrugged. "You wanna analyse what goes on in this guy's head? Anyway, apparently just before their divorce, he was counselling a particularly badass kinda patient. Charlie Heathrow. A serial murderer out on parole. He was serving time in the mental ward and Wilson was the one assigned to him. Brass verified all this with Wilson's secretary and got access to his patient files through some gift of god. Here's where it gets interesting. Guess what this guy's M.O. used to be?"**

**Nick's mouth opened in growing comprehension. "Electrocution and torture".**

**Warrick nodded grimly. "Yeah. Either Wilson figured he'd fob the whole thing on Heathrow if it went bad… or he was just getting pointers".**

**000000000000**

**Despite his earlier reservations, Greg found himself feeling ironically useless in the lab once the DNA results came in. He met Warrick, Nick and the rest of the team at Wilson's apartment complex.**

**Police scattered the area, but Catherine had deemed the apartment strictly off-limits for everyone but CSI and Brass. The homicide detective stood just inside the door, quietly watching the guys and Catherine as they meticulously processed every inch of space. **

**Nick came back from Wilson's bedroom, shaking his head in grim hopelessness. "I've got nothing".**

"**Me either", Warrick agreed unhappily, rising from his crouch in the living room. **

**Catherine glanced at them from behind the kitchen counter, closing a drawer with one hand. "Guys… we're not looking for anything hugely incriminating here. Just something, anything, that would tell us where he's taken them".**

**Warrick shot her a slightly impatient look, snapping his gloves off with a pointed SNAP. "We'll I'm telling you, Catherine, there is _nothing_ here. How are we supposed to find Sara and Griss without any breadcrumbs? This guy is meticulous. He doesn't even keep patient files anywhere except his office. Nothing that would cast doubt on his credibility".**

**Nick sighed. "He's right, Cath. We've got nothing. They could be anywhere by now. They could be out of Vegas. Out of _Nevada_. They could be—"**

"**DON'T you DARE say it!" Catherine screeched, voice frantically shrill. **

"**Cath—" Warrick tried, unable to meet her piercing gaze. **

"**WHAT!" she snapped, slapping her hands down on the Formica counter. "I'm supposed to stand here and listen to you tell me they're DEAD? Is that it? We don't give up! That's not our job, not when its one of our own. We will find them; I don't care if we have to search this whole Goddamned city!"**

"**Guys", Greg interrupted quietly, standing in the doorway between the living area and hallway. **

**They all stared at him, and he met their glares calmly. "What about the warehouse? That's where he took them the first time".**

"**Why would he go back to the same crime scene, Greg?" Catherine said, tiredly, lowering her head. **

**Nick eyed Greg pityingly. "He wouldn't be that stupid, man".**

"**Do you have a better idea!" Greg snapped, his own emotions coming to the fore. His features were drawn and pale and he looked even more sleep-deprived and affected than any of them. "You're brushing it off now. Maybe he thinks we'd never suspect it. What do you have to loose?"**

"**Besides valuable search time?" Brass spoke up from the door. **

**Greg glared at him. "Come on. What the hell else do we have to go on?"**

**000000000**

**It took ten minutes, but the crime unit assembled with several officers and headed for the inactive crime scene. None of them actually expected Greg's suggestion to have any substance. But they were operating on pure adrenaline by this point.**

**Brass pulled his Denali to a halt outside the imposing structure, and beside him, Warrick, Nick and Greg pulled up in their Tahoe. Unconsciously, the detective checked the folds of his jacket to ensure his firearm was suitably fitted. **

**Then he opened his door, giving the signal to the others to wait behind. **

**000000000**


	12. Chapter twelve

**A/N: **Thanks to **Ambient Flames **for her impatient, slave driving…Oh, I mean all her great feedback! Put the trout down and back away slowly…(Rouch)

**00000000**

**The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it.****   
--****Wendell Berry**

**000000**

Sara waited in the vehicle while she watched Grissom run into the main building of the Ingleside Inn. They had driven for four hours, and Sara was starting to get the impression that the whole trip might not have been as spontaneous as he has led her to believe.

Sara looked around-- she knew the area. Before she moved to Vegas, and she had free time, she had spent many weekends rock climbing in Joshua Tree National Park; though she had never wandered into Palm Springs.

Taking her focus off the mountains in the distance, Sara looked toward the building again, and smiled.

Grissom was already on his way to the car. "Spontaneous my ass," she whispered to herself. There was no way a place like Ingleside just happened to have an opening, and if they did there was no way they checked them in that quickly.

He got into the car, and handed Sara a brochure without a word. He started the car as she looked over the information.

"Villa 8…The Royal Suite! Grissom!" She didn't know what she was feeling. She had butterflies in her stomach, but she also had to fight back a surge of fear.

He took her hand as they drove around the main building. "Keep reading."

"Elegant living room, wet bar, gas fireplace…opens to private patio," she read the highlights. "Bedroom with gas fireplace has two large bathrooms, including a sunken tub." Sara closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to sit in a hot bath, letting her muscles relax finally. She continued to read silently, but stopped on three words, 'king size bed'. She didn't know if she was ready for that.

"Grissom, this must cost a fortune, we don't have to stay here tonight. Let's just drive to L.A., it's not that much farther." She tried to sound natural.

He parked the car, and shifted in his seat to face her. "Don't worry about the money, and we're not staying here tonight."

Sara opened her mouth to speak her confusion, but he stopped her.

"We have the Villa for the rest of the week." His eyes searched hers, trying to find out what she was thinking.

He looked down at their intertwined hands, and saw the matching burns on their wrists.

**"It's ironic, isn't it?" Wilson asked. "It took torture for her to finally reveal her feelings to you. She must have been afraid you would reject her, hurt her, and now it's that torture that protects you."**

Grissom loosened his grasp from hers. "Maybe this was a bad idea." He started to backpedal.

Sara squeezed his hand before he could take it away completely. "No." She wanted to stay with him just as much as she wanted him to stay away from her. She wondered how long the residual fear for his lifewould linger. "Let's just take this slow, okay? One step at a time?"

He nodded, as she opened the door and stepped out.

00000

**Sara tried to control her breathing. She was lying face down, and hadn't moved since Dr. Wilson stitched her up. She wasn't even sure if he had left the cell.**

"**Sara," Grissom's hushed voice answered her question.**

**All she could illicit was a moan.**

"**Sara, look at me, your cell door isn't locked." His voice was urgent.**

**She finally rolled her head in his direction. "It never is."**

**Grissom stared at her, not comprehending her statement.**

"**Since you got here, I've been free to go," she explained with finality.**

"**Sara, you need to go. Go get help. Please, get out of here," he pleaded.**

**She smiled slightly. "I can't."**

"**Sara…" he had no idea what to say to her. He physically hurt to watch her in so much pain, and she was subjecting herself to it for him. _'Because she loves me,'_ he reminded himself.**

**She tried to push herself up, but was too weak and collapsed on the ground again. "Gil…he won't kill me. Not killing me is the key to his…whatever this is to him." She couldn't look at him anymore; she didn't know how much more she could take, and she feared for his life. "If I leave, you die."**

**They both tensed at the sound of chains rattling. "It's so amazing isn't it, _Gil_?" Wilson continued to speak as he leaned down and stroked her hair. "I didn't think I would find a love this strong." **

**Sara eyes were fixed on the new set of electrodes he held in his hand. Two days of torture with them had almost reached her breaking point. She shook at the memory of the electricity coursing though her body. "No," she whispered.**

"**Ah, see Gil, Sara hates these more then anything else." He grabbed her wrist.**

"**No, please. End this. Let him go and I'll stay with you." She was worried she would betray Grissom.**

"**Sara!" Grissom admonished her.**

"**No, no, we're just getting started," he cooed, and locked each electrode around her already burnt wrists. "You see Gil, I allowed her to feel the pain of the electricity before so she would know a fraction of the pain you would feel if she betrayed her love." **

**0000000**

**Nick followed Brass through the door. They both stopped when they heard the echo of voices. Brass halted and put his hand up. He looked back at Catherine who must have seen the startled look in his eyes.**

**The blonde ran back to the Tahoe to radio for backup. **

**Greg watched the more seasoned officers react and he instantly pulled his firearm out of its holster. His hands were shaking, and he hoped Sara's life did not depend on him being a sure shot.**

**Nick glanced back at the younger CSI as he drew his own weapon. He nodded his approval, seeing he had already armed himself.**

**Brass moved closer to whisper into Nick's ear. "Go around the building, there's a back door."**

**Nick moved quietly, and disappeared around the corner.**

**Taking a deep breath, Greg moved forward to follow Brass.**

**000000**

Sara walked through the spacious suite. "How did you know about this place?" she finally asked, coming to a halt in front of the fireplace.

He came up behind her, but stopped himself from wrapping his arms around her. The action felt so right, but he knew she wasn't ready. Maybe he was moving too fast, but all he could think of was the love he finally understood she had for him. All his insecurities and excuses as to why the relationship would never work disappeared when he considered what she had done for him.

He settled for a light brush against her arm. "My parents came here for their honeymoon. It was really all they talked about. Even years later, my mother would tell me about the famous people that have stayed here."

"Famous people?" She could feel his warmth behind her, and leaned back against him.

He could barely contain the joy he felt in her subtle movement. She seemed to fit. He gently hugged her against him, one arm around her waist, the other across her shoulders. "Yeah, this was quite the getaway back in the day. Marlon Brando, Greta Garbo, President Ford, and more recently, John Travolta, Cher…"

Sara allowed the gently hum of his voice sooth her. She closed her eyes. She felt normal.

**000000**

**The intensity of the shock was more painful than she remembered it. She was vaguely aware of Grissom yelling. **

"**I can end your pain, Sara. Just tell me to stop and I'll stop," Wilson tempted her.**

**Sara knew at that moment that there would never be a level of pain that she would reach that would make her be willing to sacrifice Grissom life. She stared defiantly at her tormentor. "Go to hell." And then looked into Grissom's eyes, hoping to make him understand.**

**Grissom stopped his struggles, and watched Sara. Was she giving up, she looked resigned. "Sara, no." She knew she was going to die, and he instantly regretted everything and nothing. He loved her, God, he truly did, but neither one of them had been ready at the same time to follow through on their feelings. **

**He tried to convey all of his thoughts, and love to her. He had no idea how long their imprisonment was going to last, but he knew Sara needed him for strength. He was committed to finding ever last thread of strength to encourage her through her pain.**

**000000**

**Greg and Brass neared the source of noise. The smell of fear was heavy, and they could hear screams that had reached the point of the pain threshold that the gender of the person was indistinguishable.**

**Brass looked back at Greg to make sure he was capable of handling whatever they were about to walk into.**

"**_Go to hell." _Sara's voice was filled with determination.**

'**_Good for you kiddo,'_ Brass thought proudly. He caught Nick's eye from the other end of the hallway. They needed to stop whatever was going on. Now.**

**Nick rounded his corner, gun raised, while Brass covered him. They both took in the scene before them. Sara was writhing in pain, while Grissom was chained against the wall helplessly watching.**

**Nick squeezed off two shots and the three CSIs rushed in.**

**000000**

Grissom finished starting the fire and looked over at Sara's sleeping form on the couch in front of him. She finally looked peaceful. Even before their capture she had never looked at ease while she slept. It was as if she was always on edge, waiting for a nightmare.

He shivered in anger as he thought about the cards she had been dealt. Born into an abusive family, watching her father die, forced to visit her mother in a psychiatric ward, bounced around in the foster system, rejected multiple times by the man she loved more than her own life, and tortured almost to the point of death.

His thoughts reminded him once again of the part he played in her pain.

"Hey," her voice was quiet. He hadn't been aware that she woke up. "What's wrong?" Her eyes were focused on his, and she seemed to sense his anger.

Burying his anger, he moved over to sit next to her. "It's nothing, I was just thinking."

Sara searched his features, trying to decide if she should push the issue. As he reached over to brush an errant strand of hair off her brow, she grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. "Thank you."

He caressed her cheek. "For what?"

"For getting me out of Vegas, away from more sessions." She wanted to be the women he needed, but they both had a lot of scars that needed to heal. "For understanding where I'm at right now, and meeting me there."

He smiled and allowed their closeness to fill his soul. He knew she was worried about their relationship; about the intimacy. All he needed her to understand was that to him, just touching her made him feel alive.

**000000**

**Grissom couldn't believe his senses. He heard two shots. He watched Wilson drop to the ground, and then saw Nick run into Sara's cell to make sure he was subdued. **

**The electrodes were still humming with electricity, and Sara started to vomit. Brass entered his cell. "No, shut off the electricity! She'll die, shut it off!"**

**Nick searched the cell frantically, but he had no idea how the mechanism worked.**

"**There's a black box, it was in his hand!" Grissom was oblivious to everything else but Sara, and only after Nick found the controls and Sara was silent did he breathe. He collapsed against the wall-- it was finally over. **

**Nick fumbled with the locks on her own chains, but she struggled against him. "Sara, easy, it's over, let us help you." He tried to comfort her. He almost didn't recognize her.**

"**No, help Grissom-- please free him," she pleaded as she jerked her hand away from Nick's. Her breathing was erratic, her body was still spasming. **

**Brass had found the keys for Grissom's cuffs somewhere and was releasing him when Greg called out. "She's not breathing, oh God, she stopped breathing!"**

**Nick was instantly rolling her over and clearing her airway. "Sara!" **

**Grissom protectively pushed Nick out of the way, checked for a pulse, and motioned for Greg to start chest compressions after he found none. The two began a rhythmic motion of CPR, and Grissom breathed into her mouth. How long had he dreamed about his lips touching hers? Never in those dreams was Sara lying beneath him limp and lifeless. _'This isn't happening, not now.' _He thought desperately. "Come on Sara, don't give up!"**

**Footsteps echoed down the hallway. "Oh, Grissom?" Catherine's words were laced with concern.**

**Sara suddenly came to life beneath him. "Grissom?" Her voice was weak, and her face twisted in pain. She tried to roll over to ease the pressure against her back, but didn't have the strength. **

**Greg moved to help her, but was rewarded with another sharp cry.**

"**Her shoulder," Grissom explained, and took over. Everyone was stunned as they took in her myriad of injuries. **

**Sara grabbed his shirt with her uninjured hand, desperate to find a comfortable position. Her eyes drifted lazily shut.**

"**Sara, come on, stay with me," he begged.**

"**The paramedics are on the way, I called them when I heard the gun shots," Catherine explained, glancing at the still form lying on the ground. She cocked her head toward the body, "Lee Wilson?"**

**Sara tensed, and Grissom glared at the blonde.**

**Shooting a sympathetic look their way, Catherine walked to the body and checked for a pulse.**

**000000000000**


	13. Chapter thirteen

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter thirteen**

_**000000**_

_**I reached for sleep and drew it round me like a blanket muffling pain and thought together in the merciful dark.  
-- Mary Stewart**_

_**000000**_

**Silence. Peaceful and unassuming. She felt enveloped by softness and quiet, and her aching muscles found some measure of temporary relief in oblivion.**

**When her eyes flickered languidly open, she was assaulted by the blinding, overwhelming whiteness of the room, and the pungent, antiseptic smell she had long associated with pain and death. **

'_**Am I dead?'**_

**Blurry shapes focused and unfocused in front of her weary eyes, and she squinted, struggling to distinguish between their distorted outlines.**

**Something weighty and warm trapped her fingers, pressing them to the bed, and she momentarily panicked, heart thundering painfully at their identify.**

**The dark shape hunched beside her bed finally came into view, and Sara recognised Grissom's taut, wan features, relaxing slightly. He was asleep, but his fingers remained threaded over hers, clutching their warmth tightly, protectively. **

**She blinked groggily, feeling her head sway dizzily, tempting her back into unconsciousness. She resisted it weakly, barely lifting her head as she studied him. **

**Bruises marred his face and neck, and her eyes trailed down to his tanned wrist, and the flesh that the cuff of his shirt had slid up to reveal on the white blanket. Raw, painful indents burnt into it, and she bit her lip, closing her eyes again and feeling her fingers slacken weakly under Grissom's grasp as she futilely tried to prise them apart. **

'_**He can't be here. He can't.'**_

**She slid away again, embracing the darkness with a heavy heart. **

Warmth ticked her features, lulling her slowly awake. She blinked slightly, adjusting to the low amber glow of the room as she took in the fingers of orange flames coiling up in the fireplace. Her head was cushioned on the sofa, and a soft blanket draped over her shoulders. She realised she had fallen asleep again. Sara lifted her head, threading her fingers vaguely through her mussed locks as her eyes scanned the empty room.

"Grissom?" she called softly, hesitantly. His absence bothered her, and she wondered how she had managed without him so long. She glanced towards the entrance, realising that the door to the suite was open.

She rose to her feet, retrieving a cotton pullover from the top of her luggage and striding across the room towards it. She nudged through the screen door, shoes soundless on the floor as she walked out onto the small porch. Grissom sat on a chair poised on the end. His blue eyes were fixed distantly on the horizon.

Sara studied him for a moment, allowing her old and new selves to temporarily overlap and take pleasure in the fact that Grissom was voluntarily alone with her, hundreds of miles from Vegas.

"Hey", she said softly, closing the door carefully so as not to startle him. She strode onto the porch, leaning back against the pine railing to face him.

Grissom glanced up at her in mild surprise. "Hey".

His earlier enthusiasm appeared to have deflated in her absence, and he looked sad and contemplative. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, ignoring the brief flash of pain as she grazed a wound, studying him in concern.

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing, Griss".

He moved his shoulders in a vague shrug, smiling faintly. "Just thinking".

She frowned as she considered the implications of that. "That can be… a dangerous thing, lately".

He glanced at her. "That's not what I…" He paused, linking his hands together on his knees as he struggled to formulate the adequate words. "Am I… trying too hard, Sara? Is this all too much, too soon—after years of nothing? I don't want you to feel like you have to…"

Sara tilted her head, eyeing him uncertainly. Was he having second thoughts? "I told you I was fine with this before. Better than fine. This is… exactly what I need."

Grissom nodded, intently studying his hands as he exhaled. "Okay. Good".

She found this tentative side of him oddly endearing, and left her perch, stepping in front of him so her legs lightly brushed against his knees.

"Hey", she said softly, reaching out and brushing his hands with her palm. It gave her a strange thrill when she realised she could do that freely, without fearing the consequences of the simple intimacy of the motion. "What are you really thinking about?"

Grissom lifted his head, meeting her gaze reluctantly. He unconsciously threaded his fingers through hers, stroking her hand idly. "I was thinking about him", he admitted quietly. "About Wilson".

**"Someone has to tell her".**

"**She's weak enough already. She doesn't need the stress".**

**Catherine folded her arms, staring at Grissom levelly. **

"**If we don't tell her, she'll hear it on the news, or from one of the nurses", she persisted impatiently. "I think that would be worse."**

**Grissom remained silent, staring moodily at the floor, from his position on the soft suede chair positioned in the corner of his hospital room. He refused the indignity of the bed when he was strong enough to sit, and Catherine suspected he would have pestered the hospital staff for an early discharge if it hadn't meant his separation from Sara. **

**She wasn't entirely sure exactly what had happened between the two of them, but she could guess. Grissom had held a grim vigil at Sara's bedside all through her unconsciousness, and then she had woken yesterday, and he had not so subtly extricated himself from her presence since. Catherine got the feeling it was too painful for Sara to see him after her ordeal, and had said something to that effect to Grissom, which the entomologist immediately misinterpreted. **

'_**He can be so stupid sometimes.'**_

**"I don't think it would be a good idea if I told her", Grissom muttered, looking into the bustling outer corridor as Catherine stared at him expectantly. "I can't".**

**She pursed her lips, looking down. He had to realise how much Sara really needed him right now. After everything they had been through, the only comfort she would find was with him. Even if she didn't think so right now. She fingered her handbag where she had placed it on the food stool at the end of Grissom's bed, hovering there uncertainly. **

**Her eyes slid up when she heard movement in the hallway, eyes widening when she spotted the spiky haired lab tech in the door. **

**Grissom followed her gaze, and she could tell he was following her line of thinking. She was hardly qualified to tell Sara herself when their relationship was civil at the best of times. It needed to come from someone she trusted. Someone who cared about her as much as Grissom did. **

**Greg blinked stupidly back at them. His features were drawn and he looked exhausted. She momentarily pitied him. **

"**What?"**

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**Greg hesitated outside the door, bracing himself inwardly. He slowly knocked, craning his head inside when there was no response.**

**Sara was on her back, hunched under the blankets of the stiff hospital bed with the delicacy of a child, staring mutely at the ceiling. Her normally slender frame looked thin and frail, and her deep brown eyes were vacant, dull of their normal animation. **

**Greg swallowed, heartbroken to see his friend so stripped of herself. He didn't think what he had to tell her would make it any better. **

"**Hey, Sar", he said gently, slowly approaching the side of the bed. **

**She turned her head, drawing her eyes away from some random spot on the ceiling to fix on him carefully. To his relief, she attempted a weak smile, though it barely reached her tired eyes. **

"**Hi, Greggo", she murmured, voice raspy. **

**He fidgeted, returning the smile nervously. He didn't like hospitals. His own brief period there in the wake of the lab explosion had been enough time for him. **

**He pulled the chair to the edge of the bed, forcing his expression to appear mildly cheerful. "So. How's the hospital food?" he started warmly. **

**Sara scoffed, and it was a sound so familiar it tore his heart. "They don't have… a proper vegetarian menu", she rasped slowly. "I had to have soup".**

**He didn't point out that that was probably all she could manage right now, and she didn't either. "Well, I'm sure I can smuggle in some contraband", he replied, winking lightly. "You'll just have to be extra nice to me".**

**Sara chuckled vaguely, which erupted into several lengthy, body wracking coughs. **

**Greg hastily retrieved the water from the side of the bed, holding it to her lips, which she sipped gratefully. After she had sagged back against her pillows, he cleared his throat, casting his eyes downward grimly. "Sara… I need to, uh… We need to talk about something for a sec".**

**If she observed the gravity of his tone, she didn't comment. "Okay", she murmured slowly. "Go ahead".**

**Greg bit his lip, studying the white of her blanket intently. "Okay. Well… uh, I don't know if you know… what happened after you lost consciousness…"**

**Sara closed her eyes. "No", she said quietly. **

**Greg faltered. "We thought… it would be better… if we waited a while until we told you…"**

"**What is it, Greg?" she said quietly, with infinite patience, like he was merely on another of his random evidence ramblings. **

**He swallowed, glancing at her face tensely. "Wilson… He isn't dead", he confessed unsteadily. "He survived Nick's shooting".**

**0000000**

"Grissom", Sara chided gently, staring at him with infinite gentleness and compassion. He blinked; surprised she was the one assured enough to do so, and that she hadn't reacted the way he had imagined when he admitted what he had been thinking. "Don't… Just don't think about it".

Grissom frowned, glancing down again sharply. "I can't help but think that… he's going to come back… and destroy what's happening between us".

Sara glanced at him carefully. "Is that why you brought us here?" she guessed softly, staring at him shrewdly. He met her gaze, still somewhat surprised by how well she knew him. "Is that why you wanted to escape Vegas?"

He didn't reply, allowing her to draw her own conclusions. He was inwardly amazed at how well she appeared to be adjusting to the seclusion, to the peace of their surroundings. It had been years since he himself had been on a holiday, and he knew the days of imposed 'leave' Sara had taken last year would not have qualified as much of a break. It amazed him that he had set up this very plan to relax them both… and he appeared to be the one unhinging.

"Come on", she said tenderly, suddenly breaking him from his thoughts, wrapping her fingers more tightly around his hand.

He frowned, allowing her to tug him to his feet, staring at her uncomprehendingly. "What…?"

"Come on", she repeated gently, leading him back into the warmth of the suite. The place had fond memories attached to it for him, despite the fact that he had never been there. Memories, which had been fabricated in his own imagination-- of his parent's love and undying devotion to one another. A visual he had rarely seen in his own childhood throughout their troubled marriage, and something that comforted him inwardly and made him glad he was sharing it with Sara. He was certain the intimacy of sharing such a location with her was not lost on her, and he glanced at her slightly flushed cheeks in the amber glow of the room, marvelling at her beauty.

When he realised where she led him, he lifted his brow, staring at her uncertainly. "Sara…"

She shook her head at him, and it amazed him that somehow in this journey she had ended up being the one to comfort him. She slid out of her shoes, pulling back the down comforter on the expansive bed. "Just sleep, Grissom", she said gently. "That's all".

He allowed himself to crawl beneath the covers, nestling into the soft curve of the mattress. Sara shifted so her head was next to his on the pillow, and the lavender scent of her shampoo briefly teased his nostrils. He closed his eyes, feeling her shift her back to face him, and snuggling against his warmth so his front was pressed against her, cocooning tightly around her.

She found his hands, wrapping them securely around her midsection, and he carefully avoided pressing himself against her injuries, allowing himself to take in the warmth, the scent and the comfort of Sara Sidle.

When sleep came, it was peaceful.

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	14. Chapter fourteen

**Author's Note:** We would like to thank _everyone_ for their kind reviews and encouragement. It was quite the ride, and we couldn't have done it without your constant support!

**A Trial of the Heart: Chapter fourteen**

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_**Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it.  
**__**--  
**__**Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.**_

**_Anais Nin_**

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Sara sifted through her inbox. After two weeks of vacation time, and a month of desk duty, she had been glad to start cases. With her first full week back to full duty status, she knew the cases she was being given were handpicked, but she didn't care. She was starting to feel normal again.

"Hey Sara wh—wow." Greg stopped in his tracks, sizing up his colleague. She was dressed in a tailored black pinstriped suit, accented with a red shirt, with a white collar and cuffs folded over the suit coat.

She tried to hide her smile. "Greg?"

"Wow," he reiterated.

"You said that already," she joked, walked around the desk. Leaning against the front edge; she took a moment to enjoy the sense of camaraderie she shared with the younger CSI. Finally, she smacked him on the forehead with her folder. "Your entire vocabulary has been reduced to a three letter word because I'm in a suit for court?"

He smiled. "Just think what you in a dress would do to me."

Laughing slightly, she said, "I wouldn't like to think about that Greg."

"Hey," Grissom's voice filled the office.

Greg straightened slightly. "I need to go get some coffee." His voice turned serious, "Good luck in court."

Waiting for Greg to leave before talking, Sara sized up the man in front of her. He too was wearing a suit. Charcoal with a dark blue shirt as an accent; a grey and blue striped tie hung around his neck, untied.

"Wow," she echoed Greg's earlier words with a smile.

Grissom cocked his head, considering her statement.

Covering the space between them in one long stride, she grabbed the ends of his tie. She pulled him closer to her, but remembered where they were, and began tying it deftly.

Grissom watched her with a bemused expression. He felt her fingers flutter against his collar, and reveled in the feeling as they would randomly graze the skin on his neck. The two weeks spent at Ingleside had allowed them to rebuild their friendship, and take the initial steps toward their relationship. Grissom couldn't help but feel cheated by Wilson. They had been forced to admit their feelings without the life and excitement of a newfound relationship to reveal their love.

"Excuse me?" Judy asked behind them, interrupting his thoughts. "Ms. Sidle, I have a message for you," she continued, handing the pink paper over to the brunette.

She quickly read the note. "Is this a joke?"

"No, the call came in when you were in the meeting," the secretary explained, confused.

"You should have come and got me," Sara told her sternly, and grabbed her brief case and her keys.

Grissom watched her with concern. "Sara, where are you going? You're due in court in an hour."

Walking out the door, she called over her shoulder, "I'll be there, but I need to take care of this."

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Sara steady herself with a breath, and pushed open the heavy door. She thought she had seen the inside of the hospital enough for one lifetime, but the message was one she could not deny.

Inside the sterile room she studied the still figure on the bed. Walking up to the chair, she took a seat, trying not to draw attention to her presence.

Marni slowly turned her head, and managed a small smile. "Sara?"

Her eyes almost filled with tears. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and leaned forward. "Yes." Her answer was simple. She wanted to take her hand, and offer physical comfort, but she also knew she was at least two months ahead of the young woman in their recovery.

The blonde's hand reached out, tentatively searching for Sara's. When she found it, she seemed to steady herself as if she felt relief to touch someone. "My doc… my therapist, she told me about you," she started, and her thumb swept across the healing burn scare on Sara's wrist. "He…did he…" her voice cracked.

Sara squeezed her hand gently. "Shh. You don't have to talk about him. I'm here for you."

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Rushing into the courtroom, Sara smoothed her hair down; hoping her rush to make it from the hospital to the courthouse wasn't that obvious. Glancing around subtly, she found Grissom and sat next to him. His arm, the one that had been resting on the back of the bench, drifted closer to her, and their position in the back of the room allowed him to rub small calming circles on her shoulder blade.

She looked to the witness stand and tuned into Brass' testimony. "When we approached the noises, we found Dr. Grissom chained to the wall, and CSI Sidle was being tortured by Dr. Lee Wilson."

Sara closed her eyes; she remembered that moment more clearly than anything else that had happened.

**The only sounds she could hear was the hum of electricity and Lee Wilson's steady breathing. She couldn't fight anymore, and she could feel her body giving up. The pain stopped.**

**Wilson sat down next to her; he seemed to sense her resignation. He brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Sara, you can't comprehend how groundbreaking this moment is. 'Love surpasses pain'. We've found your breaking point, but your love won't let you fall over the cliff. Amazing." **

"**Go to hell." Her voice was cold, and determined.**

**The pain returned, and two shots rang out.**

Grissom removed his arm from around her, squeezed her hand, and stood. "I'm up."

Sara watched him walk confidently to the stand. Once he was sworn in, he focused intensely on the man sitting in the defendant's seat.

"Dr. Grissom, you understand that this is a sentencing hearing?" The lawyer started the long drawn out line of questioning.

She half listened. Wilson had been found guilty in a very short trial-- the city had expedited as quickly as they could. When two of their own were involved, a drawn-out process was never an option; the only remaining detail was for the decision to be made on whether he would get the death penalty, or life in prison with no possibility of parole.

Trying to focus on Grissom's words, she realized she didn't really care as long as she never had to think about the man again. She didn't even want to be participating in the hearing. The only thing that brought her there was Marni and Jerrod. They couldn't testify for themselves, and she owed it to them to explain the victim's story.

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As Grissom finished up, nervousness bubbled up within Sara. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. Her eyes darted around, never focusing on one thing for more then a moment. Finally, her eyes came to rest on the judge. She knew her, and had testified several times in her court. The older woman was watching her intently, the sympathy very evident in her eyes.

"Thank you, Dr. Grissom," the judge spoke, still watching Sara. "Ten minute recess?" She posed the question in such a way that the room thought she was conferring with everyone, but she was in fact waiting to see if Sara needed to break, or needed to testify and get it over with.

Sara nodded her need for a few more minutes, and waited only for the gavel to connect twice with the bench. She shot up, and walked out of the room before it closed in on her.

After several deep breaths she leaned against the wall, and felt Grissom's presence to her left. "I don't know that I can do this," she admitted honestly.

He placed a comforting hand behind her neck, and pulled her to him, not caring who was around them.

"I didn't have to appear during his trial, why now?" her voice sounded fragile, her face pressed against his chest.

Wrapping his free arm around the small of her back, he murmured, "You don't have to. They have the testimonies of Nick, Greg, Brass, myself and your doctor. That's more than enough evidence to get him the death penalty."

She pushed off slightly. "Is that what you want? You want him dead?"

His mouth opened to answer, but when none came, it closed again. He searched her eyes. "What do you want?"

Allowing a sigh to escape her, she clutched his lapel. "I want it to be over."

"It's almost over," he encouraged her. Allowing a brief silence to overtake them, he finally asked the question he had wanted the answer to since she left the lab. "Where'd you go?"

Sara pushed away, composing herself. "Marni called."

Biting back the disapproving comment, he waited for her to continue.

"I know what you think, Grissom, but I can save her," she explained, noting his questioning look. "_You're going to spend all your time in hospitals helping the people you couldn't save._"

Quoting the words he spoke to her a lifetime ago, after they closed up the Pamela Adler case, recognition dawned on him. "Sara, there was a lot I didn't know about you then."

She nodded her head. "I know, but you were right, I started to burn out. I can handle this, I need to handle this. Marni deserves closure."

He wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "So do you."

Before she could reply, they noted the people who had begun funneling into the courtroom. Lawyers, television stations, and reports all anxiously awaited the decision that would be made by the end of the day.

"You sure you're ready for this?" he questioned with concern.

Nodding, she walked into the courtroom, ready to recount her experiences with Dr. Lee Wilson.

0000000

"…I don't remember much after the gun shots." She finished, relieved she had gotten the story out without a breakdown, but slightly embarrassed that the entire time she focused on the microphone in front of her. His eyes were on her the entire time-- she knew that-- but she couldn't look at Wilson.

The judge leaned over to the petite brunette. "Thank you, Sara, you can leave now."

Still staring at the mike, she stood and walked instinctually to Grissom. He was standing near the door, ready to take her from Wilson's presence. Holding the door open, she stopped suddenly.

"I need to stay," she whispered, took his hand and led him to a seat near the back again.

Wilson already had his hand on the Bible, and was watching to see if they were going to stay. As they sat down, he smiled slightly.

The lawyer began speaking. "Mr. Wilson, this is not a trial, we're not interesting in what you did, but the court would like to know why you did it."

"It's _Dr_. Wilson, and that's simple; I had a theory that could only be proven with empirical research." His voice retained the same calming quality he used in the cell.

"A theory. You tortured and killed people for a theory?" The lawyer was appalled at his nonchalance regarding his actions.

"Well no, I tortured them yes, but I did not kill anyone. They all had choices and they made them." He looked directly at Sara. "The clinical data I recorded will be hailed as a monumental break through."

Sara looked at Grissom. "He recorded data?" She hadn't know that, and she couldn't decide if she was mad at being left in the dark, or upset that she even knew. Her mind began analyzing what that data would include.

"Stop thinking about it. The evidence is sealed and was reviewed only by Catherine. She censored it for court, and gave them only the bare facts," he encouraged her.

She considered him, and his inability to look at her. "You read it." She already knew the answer, and looked back at the man that tormented her dreams.

"Love, specifically the love I discovered Sara and Gil had, has a rare quality that begs to be studied. Their love is selfless, and will survive anything." He continued his testimony. "And I found that."

Sara stood, and pulled Grissom up with her. She had heard enough, and had no further desire to be under Lee Wilson's microscope. Before the double doors closed, she was enveloped in a tender hug. "He didn't find it, Sara. It's our love, he has nothing to do with it," he promised her.

Breathing in the scent of his cologne, she let his words sooth her. She felt dirty, like Wilson had been inside of her head again. "Can we… Do we have to go back to the lab?"

He smiled encouragingly. "No, we have the rest of the day."

"Can we go home?" she asked, not caring whose place they went to-- it felt like home to be in his gentle embrace.

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Settling down on the couch, Sara let him stretch out first, while she snuggled against his chest. "How long do you think it'll take?"

He flipped on the TV, searching for a comedy they would both like. "His testimony was the last, and sentencing decisions usually don't take more than an hour to decide." He stopped on a movie channel that was playing _Two Weeks Notice. _

Sara smiled. _'Full circle' _she thought to herself, and felt sleep start to overcome her.

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The ringing of the phone jolted both awake, and Grissom searched blindly for the receiver. "Yes?" he answered it tersely, and then quietly listened. Finally he spoke again, "Thanks Jim, I will." Punching the 'end' button, he set the handset down.

Sara looked up at him, holding her breath.

"Death by lethal injection," he announced quietly, hugging her tightly to him.

She allowed herself to weep into his chest.

"Shh, it's over Sara. It's finally over," he comforted her. "We can move on with our life."

At that moment, Sara understood that after all they had gone through Grissom was right. They were one life, and they were both ready to find out where that life was going to take them.

**THE END**


End file.
